The Diary Of A Boy In Love
by eloquentelegance
Summary: The Holy Roman Empire's feelings for little Chibitalia. Ch. 22 Thank You: Take good care of Italy, please
1. Hello and GoodBye

Dear...Journal. That's what I'll call you. Because boys don't write diaries. Diaries are for girls. Boys write Captain logs and Travel journals. But never diaries.

Not that there's anything wrong with diaries. They're just girly. And stuff.

A-Anyways! Austria told me I looked a little frustrated so he gave me this. To vent apparently. Since I can't use music as an outlet, not like him, he figured this was the next best thing. Which is stupid, really. Because I'm not frustrated. Really. I'm just mad that Italy doesn't want to come with me.

Why doesn't she want to come with me?

Yesterday, I saw her painting. She looked so pretty, under the sun like that.

I like her. I really like her.

I could've stood there all day. Watching her paint. But then Switzerland caught me. He was yelling all kinds of stuff about not keeping my house in order. But-But, I couldn't leave Italy. She is-She is very important.

So I told him that and then I barrelled towards Italy. I guess I might've scared her cause then she started crying and ran away.

Am I really that frightening? Is that why she doesn't come with me?

I'll just have to try harder then. Next time, for sure! I'll-I'll use force if I have to. Anything to get Italy. Anything.

Not that you'll know anything about it. I don't need a journal, so I won't be writing again. Though it would be a waste to throw you away...I'll just store you somewhere. Maybe I'll write about the lands I conquer or something...But definitely not about my personal life. Forget what Austria said. I am not frustrated.


	2. The Pasta Debacle

I can't believe I'm writing here again, but I feel as if I must tell **someone**. But just so you know, I'm still not frustrated. Perhaps a little annoyed. But only a little bit.

See, I tried using force. With Italy, I mean. N-Not a lot, of course. I just tried to drag her over to my house. That's all...I swear! I would never intentionally hurt Italy! Ever! ... Though it could've gone better if Italy didn't struggle so much.

She started crying and whining about how "Grandpa said I can't do that." Which is really weird if you think about it. The Ancient Roman Empire disappeared, right? In any case, she kicked up a great, big fuss and then that stupid France decided to stop me.

Why can't he mind his own business? Besides, it's obvious he wants Italy for himself. That bastard. As if I'd let him.

But France did give me a great idea. He had been lecturing about how mean I was being, harassing Italy. It was very hypocritical of him since he kept taking pieces of her land as well. So, I tuned him out. Though he did manage to get across the fact that I should stop being so violent and to try being _nice_. Nice. That was brilliant! Maybe if I did something really nice, like cook pasta or something, Italy might come with me. Willingly, even.

It's worth a shot.

...

It didn't work!! I messed up! I really messed up!

Mind you, everything started out fine. I got Hungary to cook me some spaghetti, and it looked delicious. I was so sure Italy would be happy about it. I thought, _surely now, she would come with me_.

But then-But then-!

When I found Italy, she was out in the fields, picking flowers. She looked so cute. I mean she always looks cute, but this time especially. You should've seen it.

The sun was just at this right angle where it hit her hair just right. The rays highlighting the strands to a shining auburn. And she was wearing this pretty crown of flowers, no doubt she wove it herself. It made her look so innocent. To complete the picture, she managed to attract a bunny and was carrying it. From where I stood, I could hear her singing to it.

So then... I basically froze up. I started thinking maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The scene looked so perfect, I didn't want to interrupt. I was about to walk away too... when she unfortunately noticed me. She called out my name and I froze on the spot.

She saw the spaghetti too. I must've looked like an idiot standing there with a steaming, plate of pasta. I thought it would look even worse if I turned tail and ran now. So... I had no other choice but to give it to her.

I should've ran while I had the chance.

At this point, I had become so nervous. Thinking that Italy must believe me to be some kind of moron. I just wanted to give her the spaghetti then get the hell out. And in my zeal to get it over with, I rushed at her and tripped.

I tripped over my own two feet.

How embarassing.

But it gets even worse. That plate of pasta? It sailed through the air and smacked right on Italy's face. It was the most humiliating moment in my life.

I didn't wait for her to get over the shock. I didn't even apologize! I took one look at her tomato-sauce covered face (which was still oddly very cute) and fled. I just ran. As far away as possible.

She must think I'm the worst person in the world.

I'm such a coward.


	3. Good Night

I had thought for certain, that after the whole pasta catastrophe, I would never see Italy again. I was so sure that Italy, at this point, hated me. A lot. I mean, I didn't even apologize! I knew I deserved her anger.

But, when I came home today, dear Journal, guess who I found?

Italy!

I was out conquering new lands. I've been gone for a pretty long time. Partly because I needed to expand my house and, as ashamed as I am to admit it, partly because I was too embarassed to face Italy again. Embarassed, scared. I use those terms interchangeably. In any case, my point is, I was out of touch for awhile. I left Austria in charge of the house while I was gone. Apparently, he's been very busy. I don't know if I should be annoyed that he didn't inform me. Of the new developments that is.

But at this point...I really don't care!

Italy is in my house! ITALY is in my house! Italy is in MY HOUSE!! I just can't say that enough.

That's not even the best part, though! The best part is that, she didn't even seem mad at me. Not the slightest bit. Shocked and surprised to see me. But otherwise, she was her same (cute) self. Ah, today was the happiest day of my life! I mean, I'm living with Italy! It's too good to be true! I just couldn't believe it! So, I tugged the bow of her apron. Just to be sure.

She was real. And there are no words to describe my happiness.

I celebrated in my room. Austria yelled at me for being too loud. But, of course, that didn't bring me down. Nothing could! Then, when he was done lecturing me, I may have... Sort of... Well, I may have...

Snuck into Italy's room?

I-I wasn't doing anything perverse!! Good god, no! I'm not France! I-I-I just wanted to see Italy's face. One last time before I went to bed. If there's any chance that this was a dream, then I at least wanted to do something I would never be able to do in real life.

So, I crept silently up to her bed. The window curtains were slightly open and allowed the moonlight to fall gently on her face. She was sound asleep. She looked so innocent. Sleeping like that. If there was some way I could immortalize her sleeping face, I would. Because she simply looked too angelic in her slumber.

Then, I did what I came there to do. I stood on my tiptoes and deposited a small kiss on her forehead. Her skin was as soft as it looked.

I whispered a quiet "Good night, sweet dreams" when she blearily opened her eyes. There was this one moment of panic. A fleeting second when I thought she was going to scream bloody murder. She didn't.

I think I was smiling. I mean, it felt as if I was smiling. The corners of my lips were tilted up. She must've liked my smile. Because she smiled back. I must've not looked menacing at all.

She called out my name again, sitting up as she did so. Some of the blanket slipped away. And then... It was too my utter mortification to realize...

She was naked.

Italy. Was sleeping. Naked.

More importantly, I was in close proximity with her... while she had no clothes on.

I felt my face heat up and she looked at me worriedly. She asked me if something was wrong. Was I okay? No I was not okay! She's naked! How can I be OKAY?!

So I ran. Again. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I'M in HER room. And she had no clothes on. God, if anyone walked in...


	4. Lost and Found

When I came home today, the entire house was quiet. And immediately, I knew something was wrong.

My house is never quiet.

It is usually filled with Austria's brilliant music. Or Hungary's cheerful chatter. And quite recently, the flustered whines of Italy. But it is never, _ever_ quiet.

Naturally, I grew worried. I began searching the entire building. The kitchen, the bedroom, the pantry, everywhere I searched. No room was left untouched. And still, I could find no one. Though a few maids managed to inform me that Austria and Hungary were last scene on the patio. But Italy? Italy hasn't been sighted at all.

With nowhere else to search, I returned to the entrance hall. It was there that I chanced upon a returning Hungary. She looked worse for wear. Her hair was in tangles, knotted around broken twigs and leaves. Her clothes were dirty, pockmarked with grass stains and torn in some places. But her face... Her face wore an expression of utmost exhaustion. Her eyes displaying tremendous fear.

I felt a shiver crawl down my spine.

I immediately asked her what was wrong? Why did she look that way? What happened? And Hungary answered. Her voice was hoarse and strangled as she related the recent events. I can faintly remember the tears rolling down her face as she told me.

Italy was gone.

Austria had apparently sent her out to fetch some water. He sent her out last night. And just this morning, the guards informed him that... Italy had yet to return.

Hungary had continued to talk. Something about having searched everywhere and how it was already early afternoon. And still no sign of Italy. But at this point. I had grown deaf. My senses all stopped the moment she uttered those three words. _Italy was gone_.

Terror, sheer terror, welled up inside me. It was a fear I had never experience before. Not even on the battlefield. It was not fear of dying. Or of being hurt. I believe it was fear... fear of being left alone. And in my fright, I roughly pushed aside Hungary, not caring that I was rude, and tore out of the house. You can imagine I was incredibly frantic at this point. My only thought was Italy, Italy, ITALY!

I had no plan. No idea as to where I was headed. I just--I just had to find her. I just had to find Italy. I didn't care how!

I searched everywhere. The small remainder of my mind, not conquered by sheer terror, managed to direct me to all the sites one could acquire water. The kitchen, the water pump, the well, the fountain, and finally, the river. The river wasn't very wide, but it possesed a strong current. It bordered my house, looping around the garden before plunging into the yet to be conquered woods. It was the last place I searched. Ironically, it was also where I found my first clue. A hint to the whereabouts of dear Italy.

By the time I found it, night was falling fast. I was exhausted beyond measure. My voice was hoarse, my vision weary. My fear had both emotionally and phsyically drained me. I was just moments away from collapsing. And I did. An unseen dip in the ground tripped me. I was sent sprawling unto the sandy river banks. It was from my view point, in that uncomfortable position flat on the dirt, that I found it. A white bonnet. Italy's bonnet.

It had been hidden beneath some bullrushes. And unless you were at ground level, where I was, you would've never seen it. I immediately realized that it was only through sheer luck that I managed to discover such a hint. I took it as a blessing from above and renewed my search.

My energy returned tenfold. I fished outthe bonnet and gripped it tightly in my hands. It was my last strand of hope, I would cling to it with everything I have. From there, I followed the river. Calling out Italy's name with renewed vigour. I was getting close, I felt it in my bones. If I just follow this river... I would find her.

Soon enough, I found tracks. Tiny depressions in the muddy banks that led to the mouth of the forest. I was afraid of that. The forest was dark and dangerous. If it wasn't, it would've been a part of my territory by now. So to go there alone? Unarmed? It was unheard of. Downright foolish. Fear clamored in my chest, working up my throat as I fought to breathe evenly.

_'Stay calm!'_ I had chanted. _'You're jumping to conclusions.'_

I followed the footsteps. They were irregular. She must've been limping. I swallowed, delving further and further into the woods. It had gotten late, the early evening moon already near its peak. But in the woods, with its thick branches and eerie silence, it may as well been midnight.

I stumbled several times and got off track more than I could count. It was hard to see. But I was determined to find Italy. I pushed on, sometimes on my knees if only to see her path more accurately. And finally, after what felt like hours, I stumbled upon a clearing.

The trees created a nearly perfect circle. The branches parting in the middle, allowing pure moonlight to pass through. It bathed the clearing in an ethereal light. A breathtaking scene until my eyes fell upon the frail, unmoving form slumped against the foot of an ancient oak.

There, embraced by the tangled roots, was Italy. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't moving. And from my standpoint, it looked as if she wasn't breathing either. I thought-I thought-God, in that one, jarring moment, I truly believed Italy was dead.

This was Italy. Italy who was always smiling, singing, painting... Carefree Italy. Whining Italy. Happy Italy. She was always so full of life. To see her so frozen, and unmoving...

It was singly the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.

I approached her with such caution. It felt as if any loud noises would shatter her and she would disappear forever. Then my knees gave beneath me and I fell to her side. The bonnet. The bonnet I had carried with me all this time... Slipped from my grasp.

A strangled cry erupting from my lips. Tears clouding my vision. I shut my eyes in a futile attempt to deny reality.

In that one dark, dark moment... My world crumbled around me. I was all alone.

A hand. Sweet and gently meekly touched my cheek. Wiping away the tears rolling down my face.

My eyes snapped open.

Italy was looking back at me. Her gaze worried as it was that night so long ago.

She whispered.

"Holy Roman Empire?"

And I blushed. My first instinct whenever her gaze fell upon me. I quickly became so embarassed. Italy had seen me crying! How humiliating!

It was as if an entire day of worry. Of anxiety. Of anger and fear and heartstopping insanity. It was as if all of it never happened. And that I was back home. With Hungary. With Austria. With Italy...

Then it hit me. As if I had been punched in the gut. Italy was alive. Italy was _alive_. Italy was ALIVE!!

I had never been so elated. Relief, joy, and utter ecstasy flooded me. I cried even harder, bawling like a baby. And in my absolute relief, I took Italy in my arms. I embraced her. An act I would never have commited while Italy was fully aware. But I didn't care. I couldn't care.

Italy was alive. She was okay. But more importantly, I found her. She was safe again.

"Don't do that. Don't ever do that again." I pleaded as I wept.

Italy began crying too. She must've been so scared. Tired. And in pain. I wasn't blind to the tiny cuts, bruises that littered her skin. Or to the slight swelling of her ankle that I glimpsed from beneath her skirt.

So I tenderly hugged her, mindful of her wounds, and let her cry on my shoulder. Because she let me cry on hers. And we stayed like that... For a few minutes, maybe even an hour, i don't know... Before we seperated.

I lectured her just a bit. Partly because it was in my nature, though mostly as to cover up my moment of weakness. I told her to be more careful. And to, for god's sake, fetch water from the water pump next time. She only smiled, nodding dazedly at me.

Then I heaved a sigh, seeing that I was getting nowhere, and offered to carry her home. She wouldn't be able to walk home with such an ankle. Not to mention her rising fever. So being the gentleman that I was, I offered her a piggyback ride. She refused at first, but gentle prodding got her clambering up my back.

I carried her all the way home. Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep. She really must've been tired. I was quite exhausted myself. But I didn't let fatigue bring me down. I had a duty to carry out.

Althrough out this whole ordeal, it never occured to me, that unlike humans, we nations don't die so easily. We couldn't die because of physical injuries to our _bodies_. We die when our nations cease to exist. We die when we collapse.

But that thought never crossed me. I could only chant in my head that Italy was gone. I could only feel my own abyssal anguish that not even logic could pierce.

And I never realized, not until we safely arrived on the front step, how important Italy is to me. She is the most important person in my life. The center of my world.

No.

She _is _my world.

I don't know how. I don't care why. But when I saw Hungary fuss over Italy's prone form, I knew. I had never felt so sure of anything in my entire life.

I love her. I love her so much.

I want to be with her, by her side...forever.


	5. Thank You

The next few days slipped by in an empty haze. My house wasn't so quiet, but it lost its usual liveliness. It couldn't be helped. Italy was sick after all.

I wrrite to you, Dear Journal, about a week or so since that River Catastrophe. As Hungary so quaintly named it. After we put Italy to bed, that night when we found her, we managed to piece out the events. She wmust've kneeled down on the riverbanks, dipping her pail in the stream, when the current tore the bucket from her grasp. She must've tried to retrieve it and ended up falling in herself. She was then swept away, and in her effort to swim back to shore, she twisted her ankle.

When she finally managed to climb out, the surroundings were probably unfamiliar to her. And instead of crawling towards the house, she went away from it. She grew even more lost and scared, and eventually collapsed in the clearing. Still very wet and cold.

The end product? A frantic household. And a nation with pneumonia. The sickness didn't last long, however. Since Italy is actually pretty stable, some would say thriving, she recovered quickly. Physical wounds are like that for nation. Unless our state is in harm, damage we inflicted upon ourselves never actually stay. One could even say it never happened.

As a testament to that, when I arrived home today, I was welcomed by a smiling Italy. And a bag of cookies Hungary helped her make.

I had been gone for, lets say, a day? Perhaps two. I didn't want to leave Italy's side. Especially not when she's sick. But duty calls. I've been out conquering, as you can see, or at least attempting to conquer other nations. I had been succesful last time. Not quite so much this time. I was pretty depressed by the time I returned home. But of course, all sadness fled the moment I saw _her_ sweet face.

Italy apparently wanted to thank me for finding her. She even kissed me on the cheek as she deposited the cookies in my hands. I turned a furious red. I swear its gotten worse ever since I realized I'm in love with Italy.

She, of course, believed that she had done something to upset me. Even though it was the farthest from the truth. She started apologizing profusely. And I... I just ran away. As per usual. Unfortunately.

Curse me and my awful cowardice!

She must think me ungrateful now. There goes my moment of glory.

On a side note, the cookies she baked were delicious. I really am grateful to her. Now to find a way to show it...


	6. Lady and the Tramp

Dear Journal,

I had finally figured out a way to repay Italy's kindness. It was similar to the Pasta Debacle except... Well, I didn't splatter her with tomato sauce. And that's always good right? Though I did manage to embarass myself... But I'm getting ahead of my story.

Either way, I blame Austria.

Like the Pasta Debacle, it all started out quite nicely. I should've taken that as an omen that something bad was sure to occur. But since I didn't... Anyways, it began with me finding little Italy rummaging through the trash. The poor girl was starving, the staff meals simply weren't enough. And, call it Fate if you will, but I just happened to pass by while carrying my dinner. See, I was on my way to my room. I had some work that needed some attending to, and had planned to eat my supper there. But, of course, when I saw Italy hungrily searching for a meal... Then I remembered the last time I tried to offer her food... So this time, I tried to be discreet.

I placed the steaming plate on the floor. Some place she could quickly find it. Then I hid nearby, not that I was shy or anything... But I've learned not to trust my feet whenever I'm around Italy. While in possesion of food.

In any case, Italy found my dinner and happily ate it. Except she stopped mid-way, declaring the food tasted horrible. I was down-hearted and fled the scene. But that isn't the emarassment I speak of. Later, I learned that Austria had seen Italy with _my _dinner and he jumped to the conclusion that she somehow stole the food. How did I know? Once again, Fate pulled some strings and I was passing by as Austria lectured the trembling nation.

Of course, I felt guilty. Worse off, I heard her stomach growl loudly as she was locked in that room. I had to do something! And I did. I asked Hungary to cook Italy's favorite dish. I, more or less, had a plan this time. In a way.

I was simply to deposit the plate through the slot in the door. That was all. Straight and to the point. Except I had the bright idea of taking a peek. Just a small one. To see how Italy was doing. She caught me in the act. My apparent staring had caused her to panick. She was reduced to a shaking mess, pleading not to be hurt. She was in no state to composedly eat and thus, I had saddled myself with the task of calming her down.

I suppose I must confess something to you, Dear Journal. I am not one for talk. Or socializing. I am not good at soothing a person. It is safe to say my attempts were clumsy at best. But if you think that is where my humiliation began, then think again. After I slowly crept into the room, I approached the shuddering mass that was Italy, and gently laid down the plate. I smiled as kindly as I could. The way I knew I smiled when I watched her from afar. She blinked up at me before beaming.

A blush spread across my face, as per usual. I stuttered out an excuse to leave but she caught my trailing robes. (Honestly, why do I wear such long garments?) Italy reasoned that I should share the pasta with her. That it was so much more fun to eat together. And of course, I obliged. It's really hard to say no to Italy. Especially when she pouts.

So then I clumsily sat down next to her. We only had one fork, since I had never dream of sharing a meal with her. (Well, alright, perhaps I have dreamed--But that is something I'd rather not delve into. ) And our brilliant solution? Italy feeds me. She wound up the noodles and held it up for me to eat. It created quite the romantic atmosphere, as if we were newlyweds. Which only helped to intensify my blush. She asked me if I was alright. My answer was gibberish.

It did not help that Austria chose this moment in time. This moment, out of the hundreds of thousands of moments, to play the piano. Correction. To play a _romantic _song on the piano. And, like every piece Austria does, the song was played brilliantly. The smooth notes enchanted me as I absently accepted another forkful of pasta. I was swept away by the crescendo, unaware of my surroundings, until I realized... Someone was closer than I would have liked.

The last offered bite Italy gave me had one long strand of noodle. The end of that same strand of noodle wound its way into Italy's forkful. And as we listened intently to Austria's masterful playing, all the while nibbling at that lone noodle, we crept closer. We were so close, we could've kissed! (Un)Fortunately, I was able to regain my senses just as our lips were about to touch. But to see her face so close to mines startled me. Enough to... let's say...

Spit out what I was eating?

All the half-chewed bits. Came spraying from my mouth. Unto the nearest person which was Italy. Distress. Humiliation. Shock. Embarrassment. But unlike all the other times in which I appeared unmanly, this time I tried to fix it. I grabbed something, I hadn't cared what, to wipe off the mess. I managed to clean most of it, until I realized the cloth I had been using was Italy's apron. Her face was clean but now her uniform was dirty. Wonderful.

It was _then_ that I grew extremely flustered and fled.

You can't say I didn't try this time.

Bottom line?

It's all Austria's fault.

Him and his punishments. And stupid music.


	7. Kiss the Boo Boo

I came home today more or less bruised and beaten. It's hard being an empire. If anybody says otherwise, they're lying. And it's not just the conquering battles either. It's all those little rebellions and uprisings too. Which, in retrospect, tend to not be little at all.

Though I have been doing pretty well for myself. Not that I'm bragging or anything. Besides, I'm still young. Compared to those like the Ancient Roman Empire. I can't really measure my worth at such a young age. I still have a long way to go before I ressurect the greatness that is the Holy Roman Empire.

...

This is not a diary. As I have stated before, diaries are for girls. Like Italy and Hungary. I wouldn't be surprise if _they_ had diaries. But I am a boy. I write in journals. I should only record my adventures, logging details of the lands I have seen and conquered. Still... I am also not one for talk. There's not many people I can confide in. And it's not as if other people will read this. Diaries and Journals do share a common trait. They are both private affairs.

Therefore, I must confess...

I...really don't care much for land or power. I am quite satisfied where I am now. I-I just want to be here. With Italy. Spending my days in comfort and serenity. Though I know I will not always feel like this. Feelings--nations change. But for now. Living with her, knowing that she is within my protection. I am more than satisfied.

I don't need anything else. I just want her by my side.

...

I got off track, didn't I? What was I talking about again? Oh, yes.

I returned home rather wounded. Nothing too serious. I few cuts, maybe a sprain. Not a big deal. Until Italy saw me. To be more specific, she came strolling by while Hungary bandaged my scrapes. Apparently, she had been ditching her chores. In other words, avoiding Austria's attention. She had been looking for something to paint with and stumbled into the kitchen. Where Hungary and I were. The moment she laid her eyes on me, she started panicking.

She bombarded me with questions. "Are you okay? Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts. Can I do anything?" So on and so forth.

Before I could say anything, Hungary answered for me. That woman had the strangest gleam in her eye. She stated that I could certainly use Italy's help. Then promptly pulled the little girl aside for "advice". I sat watching in confusion, with building tension, as the woman whispered in Italy's ear. I swear to you, that woman was wearing a smirk as dark as hell. It frightening quite frankly.

Once they were done talking, it was to my shock that she left. Mind you, I could've easily fixed myself up and she was only helping because... Well, she can be very persuasive. Motherly instincts and all. So it was strange that she was leaving when she offered to help in the first place. I was very, very confused. That is, until Italy reached out to me. I nearly forgot she was there.

For all the singing and whining she does, Italy can get pretty quiet.

She smiled to me that smile. And I turned red. I felt my ears burning with embarassment as the blush spread to the roots of my hair. That caused me to feel even _more _embarassed, thus turning my skin color a darkening my blush. Italy wondered if I was developing a fever.

She placed her hand on my forehead. Checking to see if I felt a little warm. Her touch, of course, caused me to turn crimson. Which only served to prove that I was sick. And I wasn't. (well, I'm lovesick--But that doesn't really count!!) Italy then noticed a small cut on my temple. I hadn't even realized of its existence until... until... Italy dropped a feather light kiss on the wound.

"Holy Roman is always being nice to me. So, I wanted to be nice to Holy Roman too." She had whispered as she pulled away.

Oh god. Her lips felt soft with a satin-like texture. Unlike anything I had ever felt. Her close proximity allowed me to inhale her own unique scent. A combination of soap and wild flowers.

The assault on my senses caused my brain to fry. Her scent, her touch. I barely listened to her as she began apologizing. My expression must've been a sight. I must've looked angry to her. She probably thought she was in trouble as she began to explain that Hungary told her to do it. That the woman had instructed her, telling her that this was the best first aid. But I could only snatch so much of that. My mind still on her kiss. My temple had tingled with the memory of her lips. Lips that had trembled as they rushed to state excuses.

The fact that I was thinking of her lips in such a way, fried my already overloaded brain. I grew _flustered._ So I lashed out. I had all but yelled. "Don't you have some chores to do? Shouldn't you be sweeping the courtyard?!"

Italy ran out of the room crying.

I am. The most. Horrible person in the world.

God, I'm worse than _France_.


	8. Oh Brother!

So before I go any further, I would like to say this:

I was innocent! Everything I did was in self-defense! He started it!

That is all.

Let me elaborate. It was only yesterday that Austria informed me of Spain's visit. The Spaniard was apparently bringing Italy's older brother, Romano, with him. And I was completely fine with that. Austria _was_ Spain's boss, kind of. It wasn't strange for him to make random visits. Though, I would be lying if I said Spain around Italy _doesn't_ make me nervous. It's glaringly obvious that Spain wants Italy all for himself.

But really, I mean... Who can blame him?

Anyways, when the time came around, my only goal was to keep Spain's filthy paws off Italy. Oh. And to be nice to Romano. He _is _Italy's brother. I had thought maybe if I made nice with Romano, I could get on Italy's good side again. Since that whole bandage incident, I've been avoiding Italy like the bubonic plague. So, of course I was desperately trying to figure out a way to apologize to her. Romano gave me just that oppurtunity. Or I so believed...

Until I actually met the nation.

Romano definitely had a family resemblance to Italy. They could have been twins, except that Romano's hair was darker. And his curl was on top of his head. Oh, and Italy is much cuter. (Maybe cause she's a girl? Though Romano's maid outfit could've fooled me.) In any case, Italy eagerly introduced me to her brother. She was so happy that he had visited. Even though, to be honest, her brother looked downright bitter. As if he wanted to be anywhere but here. I had chalked it up as shyness and had _politely_ introduced myself...

When he insulted me right to my face.

He called me a country bumpkin. Then he told me to go jump off a cliff.

I was puzzled at first. Wondering what I had done to offend him. Then I realized I was completely innocent. And that, Italy was reprimanding her brother. Saying that was quite rude of him. Romano merely rolled his eyes before telling Italy to "Shut up, you bastard."

Now, mind you. Once I learned he was in the wrong, I was quite annoyed. Anyone would be right? I mean, he just insulted me. But when he starts calling Italy names, then he's crossed the line. I had to defend my Italy's honor, even from her own brother, so I shouted, "Hey, don't call Italy that!"

"I'll call Italy whatever I want." Romano had snapped back.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

And that conversation went on for quite some time. Then, I got fed up first and started fingering my sword. He noticed that and immediately shrank back. I was on top of the world, right then. I had succesfully claimed a silent victory _and _defended Italy's honor. I felt pretty accomplished.

That is, until Italy stepped between me and her brother. Saying that I was being a "Meanie!" and to "Quit picking on nii-chan!"

I blinked back, very startled. I was defending _her_ and she get angry with _me_? I'm sorry, but what? That didn't make sense! And to make things worse, I saw Romano smirk smugly behind her. He was _gloating_, that bastard!

But since, the whole point of this whole venture was to make me look good in Italy's eyes, I refrained from beating the snot out of him. If yelling at him made Italy mad, imagine me fighting him. She would never forgive me!

So despite, my wounded pride. And my confusion. Along with that little tinge of betrayal. Cause I mean, I was trying to help her and everything. Despite all that, I turned around and excused myself. I couldn't stand to look at Romano's triumphant face anymore.

Big. Big mistake.

Are you familiar with the rule: Never turn your back on your enemy? Well, I just broke it. Apparently, just as I was keen on making myself look good to Italy. Romano was just as keen on making me look bad. That, or he really just doesn't like me.

So he threw a tomato at me.

I hadn't known what was coming. I was just walking away, nursing my bruised ego. Then, SPLAT! I felt something hard and wet smash against the back of my head. Knocking off my hat and seeping into my hair. I froze in mid-step.

I heard him laughing behind me. That fiendish bastard! I thought I heard Italy frantically telling him to stop. And to apologize. But at that moment, I saw red. I didn't care anymore about my image. I just wanted to make Romano pay! So I wiped the tomato, for that's what I learned it was, from my hair. Squished it in my hands. And threw it right back at him. It smacked him right in the face!

Had I painter at the time, I would've asked him to immortalized that moment! The look on Romano's face was simply priceless!! He was shocked first. Then puzzled. But soon that expression turned into a raging fury.

With tomatoes coming from who knows where, he began to fire at me. And I fired right back. Everything he threw at me. I threw back. Literally.

We didn't hear Italy's wails to stop. Nor did we stop to think about how much trouble we were going to get into. We just wanted to wipe that smirk off the other's face.

It wasn't until was picked by my collar, by a red-faced Austria. Both because of all the blood rushing to his head and because of a wayward tomato smaking him on the nose. That I realized what a wreck the living room was. There were tomatoes everywhere! The carpet, the curtain...Everything was stained!

So then I knew... I was so. So. Screwed.

My only consolation was that Romano was being dragged off too and that he was getting punished as well. Though really, I feel as I shouldn't be punished at all. He started it! But Austria was having no excuses. He sent me to my room, where I am now, with no supper. I've been here for a couple hours now. Doing absolutely nothing and bored to death.

It really just isn't fair.

And get this, Romano is older than I am. By about a year or two! Isn't that strange? I mean, I always thought we would be the same age. I fancied myself older than Italy. But it turns out, I was much closer to Italy's age than I thought! And really, Romano's older? Physically, yeah sure... But mentally? I consider him younger. Much younger.

In any case, if I looked pretty bad to Italy before. I must appear downright cruel to her now. I mean, I attacked her brother! Though I hope she has the good sense of realizing it was all in self-defense! Honest!

I still can't believe Italy is related to such a guy anyways. Romano's such a brat!


	9. Trouble in Paradise

I had a fight with Italy. And no, Dear Journal, that is not a writing mistake. I had a fight Italy. Our very first argument. And it was over the silliest of things.

It was over her brother.

Well, it started over that. Then it branched out into different subjects. And before I knew it, I was yelling at her. Not in my usual lecture Italy because she did something incredibly naive!tone. But in the loud voice that Austria uses around the new guy hanging around. I think his name is Prussia. Anyways, safe to say... Italy thought-no believed I was terribly angry. At her. But that's not true at all. I-I could never! I'm just-I'm just... frustrated. Is all.

After the whole Romano/Tomato catastrophe, I was heavily punished by Austria. I had to do some of the chores Hungary usually did. And my studies were doubled. Though really, the chores were punishment enough. Chores meant I had to work side-by-side with Italy. Normally, I would have been overjoyed by the mere thought. But lately... There'd been a tense atmosphere between us. Well, I wouldn't really call it tense. More somber, I suppose.

Italy had refused to look me in the eye.

Whenever she saw me, she would get this sad, little frown on her face. Then she would look down. She would try to make it discreet as possible. But I noticed it anyways. She'd been pretty mad at me. Or disappointed, I can't tell. In either case, I finally got fed up today. And confronted her about it. I made things worse as usual.

The conversation started out on a bad note. I wrongly accused her of being unjustly mad at me. I more or less shouted at her that she had no right to be mad at me. It was her brother's fault. She-she was just being stupid. And to-And to just...get over it.

I'm ashamed even to write it. I was just so mad. I've been trying so hard to make her like me. I've done all these nice things for her. And she just ends up hating me. I'm just-I'm just so sick and tired of messing up. I just want her to see _me _is all. I want her to know that I care for her. I want to tell her that she is the most important person in the world to me. I want to tell her...

I love her.

So-So why is it so hard?!

It's just three, little words. Just three. I. Love. You. Why can't I say it?! It's so _damn _frustrating.

And all that frustration. All that anger. All that hatred towards myself. Towards my cowardice. All of it burst forth... And hurt the last person I wanted to hurt.

She cried. She was sobbing and bawling her eyes out. But I think what really hurt. What really, really hurt. Was the few words she managed to choke out before she ran away.

"You weren't always this mean, Holy Roman Empire. What happened? I liked you when you were nice. I liked you. But now... You're just so mean. I hate it."

She didn't say she hated me. But she might as well had. And I don't blame her. She has every right to hate me.

Her pain must've been building up just as my frustration. It all started to collapse when I yelled at her. When she was bandaging me, no less. That was the first time I ever really shouted at her. And I still haven't apologized either. She was crying back then too. I've done nothing but bully her around lately. She has every right to hate me.

And it just isn't fair!

I just want to show her I care. That I don't mean it when I shout at her. That the only thing I want is to protect her. That she is the most important thing to me.

I want her to see me.

See me, Italy.

See me.

Because I love you so much. It hurts.


	10. Forgiveness and Reconciliation

I haven't talked to Italy in a week.

Though, for three days, I've been out patrolling my lands. The remaining four were spent in... Discomfort.

I hate this. Not talking to her. Not laughing with her. Simply not being with her. I hate it! I want things to go back to the way they were!

But...

It's difficult.

I am fully aware that I have to apologize. It's just... Getting the words out. _Finding _the right words. It's all too complicated. And it's really not helping that Italy refuses to be in the same room as me. I heard Italy already got scolded by Austria, because she skipped on her kitchen chores. Because I was there in the kitchen. And there was no way she was going to step foot in any chamber with my presence in it.

I'm sure you can imagine the guilt I am feeling.

To make matters worse, Hungary noticed too. How could she not. She does her work right along side Italy. So of course, this awakened the "mothering" instinct in her. And she _ordered _me to fix whatever it was that I had done wrong. _Ordered _me!

Well, what do you think I'm doing, woman? If you're so observant, can't you see that I'm trying?! Honest I am. Really...

It's just...Really, really hard.

But I can't just let it go on like this, either. I have to do something. Even if it isn't an apology per se. Just something to at least placate Italy. Something to convince her that staying in the same room with me, isn't going to hurt her. Something to maker her like me again, even if it's only a little bit.

Maybe I'll ask France how to do it...

...

So, um... Lesson learned. Asking France for advice will _always _be an embarassing experience. I highly advice against it. And also...

He knows what he's talking about. When he's not joking and taking me seriously, that is.

France told me that to get to a lady's heart, you must shower her with gifts. Flowers, preferably. Show her that you like her. So I tried that.

We have beautiful gardens in my house. They are very well taken care of. It wasn't that hard to acquire the bouquet I needed. Finding Italy, on the otherhand. Not so much. See, as beautiful as my house is, it is also very large. _Very_. Large. And understandably, it took me awhile to find her. Everyone kept saying she was outside. In the garden. But no one had enough sense to tell me _which _garden.

You just can't find good help these days.

When I _finally _found her, she was indeed in the garden. One of my favorites too. This garden is situated in the back. Filled mostly with wildflowers, and a few rose bushes here and there. Not as well groomed as the others, but the naturalness adds to its charm. Though really, the main reason I like this garden, is because of its view. It gives me a wonderful view of the village situated at the foot of the hill. My house resting at the crest.

The view looked especially beautiful during sunset. When the sky turned a rosy pink, a few brave stars struggling against fading light of the sun. To have an oppurtunity to shine themselves.

And the sun, with its fiery orange and red shafts of light, throwing the village in its warm embrace. Painting it gold.

It was in this picturesque background, that I found Italy. Kneeling down on the grass, surrounded by flowers. Her hair glinting in the fading glow.

Crying.

Yes, crying.

It was easy to see her tears. The drops reflecting the light.

And I just forgot everything. I forgot our argument. I forgot my guilt. I forgot my shyness. I just rushed towards her, flowers still at hand, asking what was wrong. Why was she crying? Why was she sad? Was it because of me? I hoped not.

It wasn't.

It was about her grandfather.

Which made it all the more worse. I had forgotten. Today was the anniversary of his disappearance.

And I felt like a right bastard, simply sitting there, staring at her. Because I didn't know what to do. I mean, she was grieving and everything. She looked so sad. That I-I just-My mind went completely blank.

So I just watched her. Bawl her eyes out. Sobbing stories of her days with her dear grandfather. I, myself, have admired the Ancient Roman Empire. Why else would I name myself, the Holy_ Roman Empire_? He was strong, that Ancient Rome. That's what I admired the most about him. Despite my father, Germania, thinking him a fool. But memories of my estranged father are, fuzzy at best. Non-existant at worst. So, I couldn't really relate to Italy about the loss of a loved one. As far as I was concerned, she was the first _loved one_ I had, and I'll be damned before I let anything happen to her.

The closest thing I have, to the pain she must be feeling, was when her grandfather took her away. And even that's blurry. We were both very young then. Just nations barely learning how to stand on our own two feet. And I remember seeing her cheerful face for the first time. She was always smiling. I loved her smile. And it hurt, to see it leave. When her grandfather took her with him, on his travels. I missed that smile. It was the first sign of kindness I got from anybody.

But then I met France, and his "kindness" is just creepy. So he doesn't count.

Either way, my reminiscing gave me an idea. So, in a stroke of brilliance, I took a flower from my bouquet. And I put it behind her ear. Made it look like the barette Hungary always wore. Italy looked even prettier than Hungary. And I told her that, in a way.

I said, "You have a great smile. I'm sure your grandfather loved your smile too. So... Can you smile for him, Italy? I'm sure he's looking down at us, wherever he is, and I'm sure he want you to smile. He wants you to be happy, Italy. _I _want you to be happy."

Then, I shoved the rest of the bouquet into her arms, and turned to leave. I thought she looked really cute, with the flower in her hair and the flowers in her arms. Like something from a painting. Even if it's only for a minute, that scene will forever be treasured in my memory.

So, I was turning away, when she called my name. Asking me to wait. It was just like that time when I gave her that pasta dish. Always asking me to wait. It was worth it though. the next few words she said... Shook my world to its core.

"Thank you." She said. I asked her why, and she smiled that breath-taking smile of hers. "When Roma-jii-chan left, I felt so lonely. But then-But then, Holy Roman became friends with me! So, so I wasn't lonely anymore."

I tried not to be stung at the "friends" comment but you can't win everything.

"Thanks for cheering me up." Italy continued. "Thanks for always being there for me. Thank you."

The last part she said in a whisper, and I am ashamed to say, I almost melted on the spot. I blushed crimson and I was about to leave again... But she wouldn't let me. And her reasons for such were better than any order she could've given.

"Don't leave, Holy Roman Empire. You are very important to me. So please don't leave. It's very lonely."

What else could I do but walk, though the more appropriate word would be stagger, over to her seat. And sit right next to her. I looked her in the eye, still teary from all that crying, and I smiled.

"I...won't. I won't leave you." Not like the Roman Empire, I had meant. Because that's what she meant too.

"Really?" She had asked.

"Yes." Was all that I could reply. And I truly believed it. With all my heart.

She smiled so beautifully at me. When she heard that. And I knew, I knew why I couldn't leave her. I love her smile. I always have and always will. I want to protect her smile. I won't leave her to cry, all alone. That would be... Very painful.

So, I stayed there. Watching the stars with her, as they came twinkling out.

And in the end, it wasn't an apology per se. But I think she got the message. With Italy, there are no words needed.

This was the best day ever.


	11. Experimentation

Dear Journal,

So. Things are back to normal, between me and Italy. Thank god. I hated fighting with her.

For reasons that should very obvious by now.

In any case, my days are once again passed doing the usual routine. Study hard. Go out, patrol my land. Eat. Sleep. Although there has been one change. Italy's been spending a lot more time with me. Sure, she still runs whenever she catches me watching her doing chores. But... Then, she's often been dragging me away from my books to spend time with her. We do aimless things. Walk around. Pick flowers. She's singing happily. While holding my hand.

It's been heaven.

Even if Austria isn't happy I've been slacking. I really couldn't care less.

Though there has been one thing bothering me...

See, I never noticed it before. It's always been covered by her hat, or that handkerchief she ties around her head. Always escaping my sight. But now, with all the time I spend with her. It's beginning to capture my attention.

See, it's that little stray curl she has. Framing her face. And honestly, I can't believe I'm just noticing it. The curl sticks out. It's not normal!

So, being curious and I pride myself on being a scholar, I investigated. I found no harm in it. I mean, it's just _hair_. What's the worse that could happen? So, I investigated. She was sweeping the courtyard when I found her. I had heard shouts earlier, she must've been caught skipping her duty. It was no wonder she was working hard. And perhaps it was force of habit, but I might've snuck up on her. Mistake number one.

I get flustered around Italy. That's not a secret. A miracle I'm coherent, sometimes. There was no way I was going to ask her up front. I decided on a more round-a-bout manner of doing things. Basically, approach her when she isn't looking. I must've given her quite a shock.

This was similar to the time when I tugged at her bow, the first time I found her in my house. Except I was tugging at her curl. Mistake number two.

The moment I touched it, I thought it felt no different. It felt like any other sort of hair. Soft too. Not stiff like I was expecting. But just to be sure, I started experimenting. Mistake number three. I started stroking it, just to see how it stuck out. Running my finger up and down, seeing if it was coarse. It wasn't. It was smooth as that cloth from the East. Silk, I believe it is called. Then I started petting it, just to see if the curl would bounce. It did.

I must make another confession, Dear Journal. I was fascinated with that curl. I was like a cat with a ball of yarn. I moved it back and forth, just to see what would happen. I even tried unfurling the curl. It did, but it immediately returned to it's usual position. Which absolutely amused me, I must admit. I had fun toying with the curl, doing all kinds of stuff, until...

Until, I realized Italy was having difficulty breathing. Her face was extremely red. She was whimpering, biting her lips. Her entire body was quivering. Her hands loosing grasp of the broom. She looked sick. Extremely so. That I started to panick. Letting go of the curl in favor of asking her what was wrong? Did she have a fever? What? What?

But the moment I let go of the curl, she ran away screaming and crying. Her face still a deep red, with her knees shaking. There was something odd about the way she ran. I was frantic, more confused than ever. And I did what was most logical to me, at that point. Run after her. But then she saw me chasing her, and started sobbing even louder.

She ran straight into Hungary's arms. The woman, as belwidered as I, scooping up the trembling child. Rocking her back and forth. Italy managed to garble out what was wrong to the crook of Hungary's neck. I couldn't understand a single word of it. I simply stood in front of Hungary, staring at Italy with worry. Seeing if I was of any help. But then after Italy broke into a fresh batch of sobbing, and hiccuping, and crying... Hungary sent me the most frightening of looks. It was a bloodthirsty glare that I thought Hungary saved obly for perverts like France. As well as a protective snarl like that of a mother fox gaurding her kits.

It was a combination of two of Hungary's deadliest personas.

And I was on the receiving end.

I shivered. Backing away slowly. I didn't get far because I bumped into Austria. He had been looking for Hungary, business perhaps. Or maybe just to talk. Either way, I was sandwhiched between two very influential people in my life. I immediately knew nothing good would come from it.

Hungary took Austria aside, shooting me a stare that clearly said, "Don't move." I didn't. I could only watch, anxious and confused. I _still_, even now, do not know what I have done wrong. They didn't bother telling me either. Austria, after hearing the story from Hungary, turned a dangerous shade of crimson. Around the same shade as when Romano and I had our tomato fight. It was a danger signal. But it was far too late to make my escape.

He marched right up to me, until we were toe to toe. Glaring down, and making me feel very, very small. He started lecturing me about virtues and innocence and "Good lord, have you been spending time with France? That man is a bad influence!" Meanwhile, I'm just looking at him, with the most clueless gaze I could muster.

What was he talking about? I don't know. I was just tugging at Italy's hair. What does that have to do with innocence, and virtue, and excuse me, but did I hear you say, virginity? I'm sorry, but... What?

I don't understand.

So, in the end, I was sent to my room. I was not allowed supper. They would find a more fitting punishment later.

I don't understand. I just don't understand. I was curious. That's it. I didn't mean any harm.

But I guess the saying holds true.

Curiosity killed the cat.


	12. Of Storms

It's the rainy season. The sky is always a gloomy gray, the ground is always wet and muddy, and we have been confined indoors.

I don't mind the weather, really. It actually fits my mood as of currently. Depressed, downtrodden, sad, miserable... Dear Journal, you understand don't you?

And for good reason too. See, after the whole Hair Catastrophe, I have been forbidden to make contact with Italy. At least without supervision. There's always either Hungary, or Austria, or some nameless maid watching us whenever we are together. Just to make sure I don't do any funny business. And there's been mentions of "The Talk". What is "The Talk"? Austria seems to skirting the issue whenever Hungary brings it up. Something about me being far too young. Well, whatever "The Talk" is, it must be something horrible to make even _Austria _antsy.

Though in retrospect, my punishment is a bit light really. In physical terms. Unlike all the other times I've messed up, I wasn't subjected to more chores, or more manual labour than I was usually required to do. But emotionally? I'm a wreck. This is a cruel and unusual punishment! I mean, seriously? Supervising our time together? That's an invasion of privacy! And while I tried to bring that issue up, Austria gave me a whithering glare.

"Better an invasion of privacy than an invasion of vital regions." He said.

What does that mean? Then the whole issue of "The Talk" came up again and Austria never got around to answering me. Strange.

And the weather, though matching my mood, has really not been helping lately. By confining us to the indoors, Italy and I are given more ample oppurtunity to run into each other. And I'm pretty sure Hungary gave Italy the firm order that whenever she catches even a glimpse of me, she must run away. Because that's exactly what she's been doing. I don't even get a word edgewise, and she just squeaks and flees.

It's been horrible.

...

Dear Journal, you'll never guess what happened!

Not that you could guess in the first place, being an inanimate object, but!

Italy actually stood up for me. For the very first time, she defended me. And while this, in truth, did in fact hurt my manly pride... It shows that she actually cares for me too! Even if only as a friend...

I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Today, we had a particularly bad storm. It had thunder so loud, it could wake the dead. Well, it woke Italy from her sleep and god knows, she sleeps like no other. It must've frightened her, waking up alone in her room, while fierce winds howled like a pack of hungry wolves right outside her window. So, she seeked company. Mine's to be specific.

She toddled into my room, hugging a pillow tightly, whimpering and crying. Pleading for sanctuary. While being bare naked.

I turned a fantastic shade of red. A shade, I'm pretty sure, that hasn't been invented yet. And shouted at her to put some clothes on! ...And yes... She could sleep with me if she wished. So after donning her clothes, nightgown and all, she climbed into bed with me. I asked her why she didn't go to Hungary instead, but the roar of the thunder cut her off. It also sent her squealing into my arms as she trembled with fear.

She was far too close. If I had leaned over any further, I could have kissed her forehead. I desperately tried to resist that temptation (though a part of me wondered, why should I resist?). And before my will power broke, I told Italy to move over a bit.

But she was already sound asleep.

Tears still leaking from the corner of her eyes.

Ah, I couldn't do anything then, so I gave in. Leaning down and depositing a soft kiss unto her silky hair. Avoiding her curl, of course.

I wished her a good night, and sweet dreams. And fell into a deep, warm slumber.

The next morning, I woke up with my arms around Italy. Italy's face buried into the crook of my shoulder. And an angry Austria glaring at me with a passion I never knew he possessed. Other than for music, that is.

Before I could explain, I mean it looked pretty bad. Even if I don't know why specifically, I knew that getting in bed with a woman is frowned upon. So I knew I was in very, very big trouble. And I desperately tried to explain that it isn't what it looked like. Italy was just scared. I was just comforting her.

But Austria would have none of that.

He simply picked me up, from the scruff of my neck, and was about to boot me out of my door. My bedroom door. And it technically is _my _house. When Italy woke up. She pleaded with Austria. Saying that she came to me and that I was simply helping her. She said she had been scared of the storm, and she didn't want to be alone. And the first person she thought of, was me.

I thought it very sweet that she immediately looked to me for comfort. I wonder what does that say about what she thinks of me?

In the end, Austria spared me from punishment. Lifted his previous one too. And normalcy has been restored. Finally.


	13. Invasion of Privacy

Oh, Dear Journal, I'm so glad to have you back!

To explain--Hungary, that fiend of a woman, stole you from me. She explored my quarters under the cunning disguise of "cleaning my room", and found you beneath my pillow. I caught her sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through the pages, giggling. Giggling! The audacity of that-that witch!

And if you think my prescence put a stop to her actions... You couldn't be even more mistaken. Rather my prescence encouraged her. She began to ask _questions_. Quoting passages and begging for more specific detail. And worse yet, cooing at how _adorable _Italy and I were. It was, to put it bluntly, mortifying.

"I never knew!" She had sighed, not the least abashed for having rifled through someone's personal belongings, "That such an innocent love was flowering right in front of me! Oh, had i known earlier!"

And that was the last straw. I promptly yelled that it was none of her business. And told her to never, under any circumstances, set foot in my room again! Ever! Of course, having already torn you, Dear Journal, from her wicked grasp. I had no qualms about storming out of that kitchen and slamming that door in her face. She got up to follow me, see. Not at all perturbed at having my shouting. More intent on squeezing every last bit of information she could from me.

It was frightening, quite frankly. All that twittering and gushing. I could just hear the gears turning in her head. Plotting some dastardly deed that no doubt I would be the center of. Even now, I shudder at the thought. The wickedness of that woman's imagination, knows no bounds.

God help me...

...

Hang on a minute, someone's knocking at my door. I'll be right back.

...

#%#$%#

I just saw the... Well, the... Oh god, I don't know what to call it. Beautiful? Yes, I suppose. Cute? Oh, most definitely. Adorable? Re-defines the word. Embarassing?

You have no idea.

What did I tell you? That woman. I have this theory that somewhere in the last year or so, Hungary has been kidnapped and replaced by an evil witch. Someone who will stop at nothing to bring more chaos and havoc into my life. Now, to break it to Austria.

For you see, Hungary, or the witch that calls herself "Hungary", has caught Italy in her dark clutches. She took the poor girl into her chambers and dressed. I kid you not. Dressed her in the frilliest outfit I have ever seen in my life. And I've lived a long one. Not as long as some nations out there. Rumour has it, the East has countries dating back to the Roman Empire. But certainly much older than any human could hope to ever live.

Give or take a hundred years or so.

And let me tell you right now, that is a long, long lifetime.

The dress was supposedly something from Hungary's home country. I can remember it in detail now, only because well... That is... Italy looked very cute in it. I mean. She's adorable on a regular basis. But to see her wearing an honest dress, and not just that silly maid outfit of hers. Well... It's a treat let me tell you that.

The dress wasn't that big of a deal. It had a black top with white sleeves. And a five, seriously five-layered, multi-coloured skirt. Once again, I would like to reiterate, I only memorized these details because Italy looked so adorable. That's the only reason! I swear!

Oh, did I forget to mention, that Italy was also wearing this cute hat? And that Hungary apparently lent Italy some of her flower clips? I tell you when that woman sets her mind on something. She gets that job done. It shows too. Because Italy looked so...

Precious.

As per usual, whenever Italy does something so incredibly cute, I can't help but stare. I tried to form a few words, ask her why in the world she was so dressed up? But my coherency was thrown out the window. Along with control over my spine it would seem. Because my knees began to shake. Horribly.

And as per usual, when Italy saw me staring at her. My face must've been a brilliant shade of red. She immediately came to the conclusion that she did something wrong. That she was in trouble. And began apologizing. In other words, panicking. And I just stood there. Because, as I said before, I have lost control of my spine. So the only thing I _could _do was stand there, paralyzed, looking like a downright fool while Italy wailed beside me. Still red in the face and my eyes never leaving her too.

Until finally... Finally! Hungary had had enough entertainment and stepped in. (I'm telling you, that woman is torturing me!) She calmly told me that I looked a little hot and bothered. (No, really? What was her first clue?) And to go cool down at the river. Take a bath and clear my head.

Mind you, we have our own bathroom. A large tub, almost a pool really. But right now, I need a little fresh air. Plus, I feel a little weird... Erm... Down... Around my vital regions. I wonder if there's an uprising somewhere... Ahem.

So, um, that is... I'll write more later, after my bath.

...

It's official. I hate Hungary.

Actually, I should've known better than to follow her advice. But I felt really uncomfortable. And it was such a nice day out. I had thought, I bath in the river would be just the thing I need. So, I went.

I took one of my dogs with me. Austria absolutely forbids dogs in the house. And the only time I ever get to play with them is when I'm outside. Which is, sadly, rare. Burdened as I am with studies. And let's not to forget, I have an empire to manage. I'm a very busy person.

So, I took advantage of my little outing and took the dog along. We played in the river. I got a little carried away with the time. But I was having fun. All thoughts of Italy and her dress fleeing from my thoughts.

That is, until Italy showed up.

She claimed Hungary sent her. (The fiend!) It was getting late, and Hungary wanted to make sure I was okay. Of course I was okay! Like I would drown in a river! Who drowns in a river as shallow as this? (Well, Italy's special so she doesn't count!)

I quickly realized this was another of her plots! Well, she won't humiliate me this time! That's what I promised to myself. And I'm proud to say, I kept calm. Depsite my naked torso being open for display. I simply ordered Italy to got fetch my towel. And then shooed the dog away.

I was blushing mind you. But everything Italy does makes me blush a little. And for my part, my voice was pretty even. I had done nothing to embarass myself. I thought I was doing pretty well.

My counter-attack was working! I had believed. Hungary was a fool!

Then Italy joined me in the river. Equally as naked.

And then we were both naked. Together. In the river.

I freaked.

All the blood rushed to my head (I mean the one on my neck!), and I felt dizzy. I shouted at her. Asking her why in the world was she naked? And then I just tapered off into incoherency as the idea further scrambled my thoughts.

To make matters worse. Italy then hugged me, hands all over my chest. Asking me what was wrong. She was touching me in... certain... ah places... That's what's wrong!?

The feel of her hands on my bare skin... Fried my brain. There was actual smoke coming out my ears. I swear! And all semblance of thought. Not just coherent thought. But all thoughts. Were chased out. And I...

Well, actually. I became quite calm. Maybe it was because my brain was so overloaded, it could only do the simplest of actions. But I coolly told Italy to keep playing. That I was getting out of the river. And to not, no way-no how, look in my direction. At all.

Italy was confused. Thinking she had done something wrong. And for once, she was right. Even if she's only a puppet in Hungary's plans. She was the one getting all... touchy.

Bottom line.

I hate Hungary.

Oh.

And I need to find a better place to hide you, Dear Journal.


	14. Of Mice, Prussia, and The Talk

So... Um, yesterday's incident... It's still fresh in my memory... Crystal-clear and sharp... Not even a full night's rest, and a complete day's work, could erase it from my thoughts...

Do I even need to tell you how chaotic today was?

Being thoroughly haunted by yesterday's... Um... How should I say... Perverted? No, that's too vulgar a word... Though really, no matter what fanciful or sophisticated word I use, yesterday will always be just that... Perverted.

But I don't have to like it! Using that term I mean. There are a lot more softer words. Like 'indecent'. Or perhaps 'naughty'.

...

SCRATCH THAT LAST WORD OUT!!

My point is! Yesterday was embarassing. Humiliating. And I basically wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Period. End of story. Let's move on!

Since I did not find some random hole, in an obscure enough location, to crawl into. (And die if possible.) I had the torture of living through the nightmare that most people would call, today. I am not most people. Though in retrospect, today wouldn't have been so bad... Had everything gone as planned.

I should know by now... Nothing ever goes as planned.

Nothing!

And everything went to hell in a handbasket. Story of my life!

How?

Well, it all starts when I come up with this brilliant idea. (I really should stop doing that.) It was a flighty, little concept. I admit. But see, I was trying to make it up to Italy. (When am I not?) Because despite the fact that she had not known (thank you god!) that I was having France-like intentions. _I _knew and that's all that really counts.

It's a self-fulfilling act, I know. No need to point out the obvious.

Ahem, so! I tried being extra chivalrous. I helped her out whenever I could. In the kitchens. Gardens. Anywhere she went, I was there too.

Basically, I followed her closely around. Lying in wait for any oppurtunity to lend a hand. And when I say closely, I _mean_ closely. Needless to say, it creeped Italy out. A lot. I was more or less her shadow. Carefully staring and watching her every move... She was quite shaken by the entire ordeal. Very twitchy and jumpy. Even though I kept telling her to ignore my presence...

Then... And then there was a mouse.

There are a lot of them running around. Mostly in the gardens. Some of the braver ones sneaking into the kitchens. But never has one actually appeared in sight. Or more specifically, _my _sight. (Though I have heard Hungary's pan bang on the floor several times during the week. I could only hope to assume those are mice she is aiming at...)

And since I, at the time, was being or trying to be as chivalrous as possible... I thought the mouse to be a threat to the household's peace. In my head, I could clearly picture Italy running in fright of the creature. So _naturally_, I had to take care of it. Nevermind that I knew nothing about catching mice. This was for the sake of peace! (And Italy!)

Or so I had told myself at the time.

That mouse was a nasty, little bugger.

Quicker than I had anticipated, it escaped my clutches _every _single **time**! To the point where I was far too frustrated and desperate. And damn it! I was going to catch that mouse if it was the last I did.

Thus, when that troublesome pest crawled beneath what I _had_ thought were curtains. (Now I know better.) I seized the chance. Lifting that oddly familiar cloth, I thought I had done it! I had captured the mouse! It was cornered and sweet victory was mine!

Aaaaaaaaaand Italy started screaming. I found myself staring at her underwear. So...

I ran. Like a bat out of hell.

Certainly not one of my proudest moments. No.

The irony will surely kill me. This I swear. Because as I fled. The mouse _chased _after _me_. It had apparently sensed my discomfort and seeked to console me. Oh, the irony.

I asked myself why... Why was I so clumsy?

And it _just so happens_, that Austria was passing by at the time. He overheard my mutterings and had decided to answer a completely rhetorical question. (That was none of his business in the first place!) He said that he did not know and began to serenely walk away.

But I wasn't about to let him go that easily! I figured since he was so _quick_ to answer, perhaps he could solve a few questions I had for him... What being a know-it-all and such... (If you haven't guess, I was bit irked that he was eavesdropping on me...)

Things have been a bit confusing for me though. Starting from yesterday's "events" and even further back with the curl catastrophe.

My body's been feeling weird as of late. For the oddest of reason, it only happened around Italy. I get all hot and bothered. Not the best feeling in the world, I assure you. I was worried I was developing some sort of allergy towards Italy. (God forbid.)

And then things start to rise... And I wondered if it was something concerning my country... I mean, I know it's not in the best of straights... But, surely conditions weren't _that _bad... Were they?

In any case, the only thing I knew for certain, was that I felt weird. And that my thoughts were growing very improper. So I asked Austria.

He turned into a spluttering mess.

Then for the strangest of reasons, he began talking about the birds and the bees...? What does thaqt have to do with _anything_? We are talking about _my _body here! What do insects and animals got to do with it?

Then he further degenerated about how when two people love each other very much. Which was okay at first. But then he trailed off and seemed to be choking on air.

As my confusion grew worse. Prussia literally appeared out of thin air. Well it certainly seemed like it. And began teasing Austrai for being such a pansy. It want something like this...

"Don't listen to this guy, Holy Roman Empire! He's not qualified to teach you about sex, when he hasn't even experienced it himself! Am I right virgin boy?" Prussia cackled.

"Stop it you moron! Stop saying such vulgar words!" Austria retorted.

"You're right! Action would be far better!" And so Prussia jumped (on) Austria. "Hey, Holy Roman! Would you like to see a demonstration?"

And then there was fighting. Punching. Kicking. Wrestling. But when those two started to moan... I decided to get the _hell _out of there. I still don;t know what I saw. But it all seemed rather _French _to me...

Oh, and oh god! I was hoping to blot this from my memory... But so, not too soon afterwards, Hungary flagged me down the hallway. She had apparently "_overheard_" my dilemma. (She was probably stalking me.) And decided to help me out.

I wa traumatized. And will be for the rest of my life.

I sort of got my answers. But quite frankly I was too horrified by the pictures to take in much information.

God, can that even bend that way? Is that physically possible?!


	15. Change

Dear Journal,

Prussia has been stalking me.

No. Seriously.

I don't know why. And frankly, nor do I care. I just want him gone!

He's been getting on my last nerve. Following me everywhere, asking me all these questions, and hanging over my shoulder like a second skin. It. Is. Infuriating.

I'm actually quite proud I haven't throttled the nation yet. I should've. I really should've. Any other lesser man, country or mortal, would've killed him by now and be done with it.

Admittedly of course, nations are excruciatingly hard to kill. So I won't actually be murdering Prussia. Merely kicking him out of my house. With a good beating that is.

What's he doing here anyways? Is this some sort of invasion? Is my empire in peril? What?

Oh shi-!

...

Prussia caught me writing, (I could've _sworn_ that door was locked), and saw you, Dear Journal.

It was Hungary all over again!

Except, Prussia didn't try to read my journal. He didn't ask to read my writings. But what he did do was... worse. Not far worse. Simply worse.

Prussia asked me to be "Journal buddies."

...

WHAT?!

Excuse me as I revel in the utter incredulity.

First of all, I really honestly don't give a damn that he has a journal. I don't care that he's been keeping one since birth. And secondly, I don't want Prussia anywhere near _my_ journal. I don't want him seeing it. I don't want him touching it. Or even being within a ten-foot radius of it!

So why?! Why in the world would I allow him to "exchange journals" with me?! Why?!

_I _think he should just shove his journal up his... in places certainly uncomfortable and improper... Where the sun don't shine... You get my gist, right Dear Journal?

In any case, I kicked him out of my room, making sure to securely bar my door, before hopping out the window. (I've never been so glad as to have my bed chamber on the ground floor!) Should Prussia ever come "knocking" in again, he'll be severely disappointed.

But with my own room out of the question, I was then on a depserate search to find some nice, secluded area where I could write in peace. When lo and behold, I stumbled upon Italy. Needless to say, my day got infinitely better.

She was sitting serenely in the flower garden. Butterflies surrounding her, a halo of sunlight crowning her head. She was ditching chores, as usual, not that I cared. Italy looked so beautiful beneath the clear, blue sky. I'm sure the dirty dishes could wait.

But like all peaceful moments, this particular one shared the same fate. And by that, I mean it was shattered into millions of pieces.

The perpetrator? A bee.

A tiny, innocent bumble bee. Fuzzy yellow and black, with a dagger-sharp stinger.

Predictably, it frightened Italy when it buzzed too close. And the girl was sent into a frenzy. Running in circles as if her head was cut off. Trying and failing to evade the insect.

And then!

Cue the trumpets!

I stormed in, with all my glorious chivalry and grace. My shining, metal-armor glinting in the sun as my noble steed neighed proudly.

...

So there wasn't actually a "noble steed". Just me running (on my stumpy, short legs). And I wasn't wearing armor. One: it's too hot. Two: no armor fits me. I am too small.

What really happened was me, shooing away the bee. With my hat. Basically, waving it around until it was deterred and left. Stubbborn creature it was.

But when the bee was finally gone, I turn around (I wasn't expecting anything really, but I _did_ just save her! I deserve some gratitude!) only to find Italy clinging desperately to Prussia. And by clinging, well let me describe it for you. The image was burned into my retinas.

Italy had her arms wrapped, _wrapped_, around Prussia's neck. She was sobbing, _sobbing_, unto his shoulder. Her torso was plastered, freaking _plastered_, to his chest. With her legs trying desperately to encircle, _encircle_, his waist.

And Prussia in turn, nuzzled Italy's head. All too happy to return the offered embrace. While smirking right at me.

_**I kid you not.**_

This. Meant. War.

I was fucking fine with him following me around. I was alright with him storming into my bedroom. And the questions were annoying, yeah, but I could tolerate them.

BUT!

You touch Italy. You touch _my _Italy. And I will beat your ass so hard, there won't be anything left of you.

So, I sent Italy inside. Shouting something along the lines of, "Don't you have dishes to wash?" Before rounding on Prussia. Fury raging in my eyes.

That's right. I challenged Prussia to a duel.

But what angered me further, as impossible as that sounds, was the little detail. The miniscule fact that he seemed to be waiting for my outburst. I was simply dancing to the tune of his devious plot.

It could've very well been a trap. But I could've been walking to the gates of Hell for all I gave a damn. I was pissed, so what if that bastard was _purposely_ trying to rile me up? Prussia was going to pay!

Besides, I had thought at the time, I was decent with the blade. I'm an empire. How could I not be? All those conquered lands were not through sheer will or dumb luck! I earned those territories!

...

I was beaten flat.

I put up a good fight.

But Prussia was toying with me.

And I lost.

Reality had never become so crystal-clear to me as it did in that very moment.

I was weakening.

I must confess to you another thing, Dear Journal. My empire is not as it was. I suppose I should've taken better care of it. Payed more attention. Heaven knows Austria tried his hardest to instill proper knowledge into my head.

And still...

Questions ran through my head, as a lay down there on the dirt. Most of them centering around Italy.

Will I be able to protect her like this?

Can I build that sturdy, strong house I promised her?

What will happen between the two of us, now that I am weak?

Will we have to... seperate?

The only thing I regret, is not that I am weak. But that it meant, my carefree days with Austria are over. I'm not stupid. I'm an empire. I know what's going on around me...

I knew something was changing.

With all my deep contemplation, I nearly missed Prussia approaching me. Not until it was too late.

He leaned in. Down almost to my eye level. And whispered, like the hiss of a snake.

_"You'll be worth something yet."_

I didn't ask what he meant. But there was confidence and greed in those eyes. A triumphant grin on his face.

Prussia was truly planning something. What, even now I do not know. Because before I could blink. He was gone.


	16. The Painting

Today, I finally, finally asked Italy for painting lessons. I've been meaning to ask her for awhile now. But there was this and that... I just couldn't find the time! Honest!

I wasn't avoiding her in the least.

...

Alright. Maybe a little.

Just a bit.

The humiliation of my defeat at Prussia's hands has not yet faded from memory. Nor has it been blunted by time. The event still haunts me, despite Prussia no longer constantly hanging over my shoulder and pouring salt upon the wound. It chafes in my conciousness and the mere knowledge would not let me look Italy in the eye. She might not know, and hopefully, she never will. But _I _will know, and that's all that counts.

I feel so disappointed in myself. I had all these high expectations, these goals. I wanted to be just like Lord Rome. To be strong and feared. I wanted glory and power, a nation worthy of the name I chose for myself. Holy Roman Empire.

But more importantly, I wanted a big, warm house. Some place safe. Where I could protect Italy for as long as I draw breath.

I wanted a home.

That's what it all comes down to.

And for a time, I achieved my greatest dream. For my home, is right beside Italy.

Now...

All those days I spent with her. Having fun, and occasionally getting into trouble. I have just realized, as stupid and idiotic as it may seem, but I have _just _realized... All those days, that seem but a whisper in the past... All those days long gone, as if nothing more than a dream... All those days were bliss.

The best days of my life.

And now they draw to a close.

I'm not blind.

I know Austria's been in a fix lately. People have been yelling at him, almost every week if not daily.

Things are changing.

...

Would you like to know a secret, Dear Journal?

I'm scared.

Preposterous, I know. For a great empire such as I, to be frightened.

But it's true.

I'm scared nearly out of my wits.

I don't want change! I was happy where I was! I had Italy! I don't want change!

My people beg to differ. And I can be nothing more than a puppet to their whims. It is, unfortunately, the fate for us Nations. The best thing we can do, I think, is to accept it with dignity. Do whatever it is in our power, to prepare ourselves.

Finally asking Italy painting lessons...

Well, I've always wanted to learn how to paint. To take a blank, white canvas -- pure as freshly fallen snow-- and give birth to beauty. Give birth to grace. Color. Art. Is truly a skill I have always admired. And Italy's paintings are all the more astounding. A whole new level on its own.

There was no better teacher.

There is no better subject either.

I've always had this belief that Italy looked positively angelic when in slumber. I've always wanted to immortalize her sleeping face. Some way. Some how. And what better way, than to paint?

Besides... Just in case... I wanted something to remember her by...

The painting lesson went along fine. After I had secured the courage and actually asked her, things proceeded smoothly. Our first subject being an innocent bunny. Kind enough to stay relatively still as we painted it.

My attempts were horrible of course. No where near Italy's mastery of the craft. But she was a good teacher. I learned a lot.

... Until she grabbed my hand, that is.

Things were going great, but when I loudly complained my art was no good. (Well, of course it's no good!) Italy, being the sweet and innocent girl she was, asked me what was wrong. And me, being the big blabbermouth I am, told her my rabbit foot sucked.

Perhaps not in those exact words, but you understand, right Dear Journal?

And Italy, ever so caring Italy, took a hold of my hand. In an attempt to demonstrate how to properly paint a rabbit foot.

Skin contact. With Italy. Is never a good thing for me.

So, as expected, practically a routine by now... I freaked. My blood pressure shot to a dizzying level. Deadly for humans, I would guess.

Good thing I'm not human.

But! I am proud to say! I did not embarass myself! I repeat. I did not embarass myself!

I simply stood up, and curtly told her I was leaving. And while that may seem cold, it's a whole lot better than me panicking and... let's say, spilling the paint all over her. That would make for crying and sticky Italy...

S-St-Sticky Italy... Wh-Why didn't I freak out again?

Ah, yes! Well!

In the end, I honed a sufficient amount of skills to paint adequately. The Holy Roman Empire does have a few budding artists of their own.

My target? None other than Italy of course.

It was through sheer stroke of luck, that I encountered upon her. Sleeping. She was taking one of those siestas, something Spain apparently taught her. Mind you, Austria and I were nearly to have a fit when Spain beckoned Italy to his bedroom. Imagine our surprise when we found them innocently slumbering together.

And ever since Spain taught her to do as such, Italy's been lazier than ever. Of course with the right "encouragement" she could be made to do her chores. But now, every three in the afternoon, she takes a nap. It infuriates Austria to no end.

In my opinion, I view the habit harmless. A little nap could certainly revatilize one's spirits. And now, with siestas giving me a golden oppurtunity, I heartily approve of it.

The light was just right. Hitting her just so. And she was curled up so adorably, so preciously on that chair. Like some feline.

She was dressed in her maid costume. Austria must be patrolling the halls, because everyone knows Italy sleeps naked. (One habit I do not condone) She must've been on alert. Though it wouldn't make much of a difference. The girl was out cold.

Nothing short of canon fire could stir her.

I should know.

I snuck up next to her and slowly began to sketch her features. Carefully adding color. I just had to get her likeness right.

Mind you. I was quiet as a mouse. But still. I took my sweet time with that painting. Despite the circumstances I was in. You can't rush masterpieces after all.

I'm no Michael Angelo or Leonardo da Vinci. And my style had this methodical feel to it. Not very artistic at all.

But I had done it. I had immortalized Italy's sleeping expression.

And no sooner had I finished, that I was found by a rather irate Austria. Who after a whole afternoon of dealing with stupid human delegates, was at the end of his rope.

Behind him.

Hungary.

Who was giggling and using some strange box-like device that kept making clicking noises, producing flashes of light. (A witch I tell you!!!)

We were so busted.

Italy was shaken from her nap, and was sent of to do double chores.

And I. Who was supposed to be upstairs, studying.

Am now locked in my room. No supper.

The fun just never ceases.


	17. Rejection

I wanted to try. One last time.

Although, admittedly. I knew it was futile. I still didn't stop hoping. Praying.

Maybe. Just maybe.

I had to try.

...She said no.

I found her, sweeping the ground. As per usual. She thought I was there to scold her. Arguing that she was already doing her chores.

I didn't even bother to calm her. I simply put the question out there. My hand reaching for hers.

"Won't you become the Roman Empire with me?"

She shook her head.

Alas, it was but another rejection.

Except this one hurt more than all the rest. Because-Because this was my final chance.

She's so important to me. I want her to be by my side. Always. I want to hold her in my arms and never let go. I want her to smile for me and only for me.

I want her to love me. With all her heart.

But she said no.

I felt frustrated. I felt angry.

Why?! Why doesn't she want to come with me? Does she hate me? Have I wronged her in any way? What have I done?!

I wanted to shake Italy. Grab her shoulders and force the answers out.

Because-Because more than anything... I felt hurt.

God if there was anything more harsher than the sting of rejection...

And then, she told me... About her grandfather. It was the first time she told me anything about her grandfather. Of the time they spent together. But here she was, telling me of grandfather's fall. The fall of Rome.

He had grown too big. Far too big for his own good. And he collapsed.

Italy said he had scars everywhere. And he was in a great deal of pain. She said she didn't want that happening to me. She didn't want me to get hurt. I was fine, just as I was.

Then she took my hand. And pleaded. _Pleaded. _"Don't become the Roman Empire."

But Italy? Don't you understand?! My people are suffering! They want to move! They want to change! I-I have to do this! I can't-I can't-!

_I can't do this without you, Italy._

Her rejection stood.

I turned my back on her.

It hurt so much. Worse than any bleeding, mortal wound from even the sharpest of swords. It still aches even now.

Oh Dear Journal.

There was a dream I had once. I have forgotten about it, till now.

It involved Italy and I.

No! It's not _that _kind of dream. It was purely innocent. I assure you!

The dream was very simple. Italy and I, standing upon a hill. The flowers blooming beneath our feet. Their sweet fragrances perfuming the air.

It was a perfect summer day. The sky of clearest blue. A few whispers of a cloud, now and again. A perfectly wonderful backdrop to the beauty I held in my hands. I do believe she was wearing a wedding dress.

Italy that is.

For you see, we have just joined together. Recreating the glory that was Rome.

I remember the feeling of utter euphoria, so strong, blooming in my chest. If only for one moment, I believed that dream was real.

I spoke in whispers. Nervous but happy. The happiest man, mortal or nation, on the face of the earth. I apologized Italy for mistreating her. All those times I chased her, stalked her, and genreally made myself a nuisance. But I quickly promised never to do so again.

There was no more need to.

And then, I happened to really look at Italy. In her wonderful little dress. Looking up at me with the same adoration I bestowed on her.

I controlled myself no longer. Leaning in to kiss-!

When the real Italy, not the dream Italy, shook me from my slumber.

She sat on my chest, as if the lack of air could trigger my awakening. And proceeded to bounce, I mean bounce, until I convinced her I was up.

(And in more ways than one, if I may be so bold as to say)

Think about my circumstances! I just dreamt this enchanting little fantasy of Italy and I. Not of the naughty kind, as I once again emphasize. But nonetheless appealing to my deepest of desires. And to wake up, feeling her presence so close to mine. (She was _sitting_ on my chest!) Could any man react any better?

Needless to say, I spent the whole day flustered.

At one point, even _Austria_ grew worried about me.

I bring up the dream now, because I can't help but wonder...

Will that fantasy, of having Italy beside me... Of our union together...

Will it stay only as a dream?


	18. I Love You

Today, I am scheduled to leave Austria's house. I have finally decided that it would be better if Austria and I separated. My people want change. They want movement. And they shall have it.

I woke up extra early today...

I had a powerful urge to say goodbye to Italy. B-But I knew if I did. I would never be able to leave. So I woke up extra early today. Just to make sure she won't see me leave. I'll instruct Hungary to tell her farewell for me.

I hope you live a happy life, my precious Italy.

I also had half a mind to leave you here, Dear Journal. Where I am going, is not the safest place for books. Your binding's been coming off lately too. I would rather I give you to Austria for safe keeping. But... He cannot keep _anything_ from his wife. And so I know you will not be safe from the witch's hands.

I'm afraid your stuck with me, Dear Journal.

Inanimate you may be, but I feel as if I should thank you. You've put up with all my crazy rantings. A silent listener to all my secrets, my stories.

If you had been a real person, I bet you would be sick and tired of me right about now. I mean, the only thing I really talk about is Italy. Italy. Italy. I must say, I'm sorry. I probably sound awfully dull to you. And to think, you were supposed to keep track of all my empirial conquests. (Does trying to conquer Italy's vital regions count?)

...

God, there are so many things I wanted to tell her. So many things I wanted to give her.

I wanted to hold her in my arms. At least once.

I don't even get to say goodbye...

...

I-I encowndered... Tat is to say, I en-en-God I can't even write properly. I'm just so, so, _so_ happy. Words cannot describe the utter joy I am feeling right now. It's amazing. It's-It's completely indescribable. I-I-!

I confessed my love to Italy.

And the best part is...

Guess what?

She loves me too!

This is even better than the time I found her in my house! Ten times better! It's just-It's so-I'm at a lost. My head is spinning. Honestly, I'm suprised my companions aren't complaining about how loud my heart is beating. It sounds like thunder to my ears.

Everything is simply-!

I suppose an explanation is in order.

Just as I was about to leave, my companions teasing me about my painting of Italy. (Yes, I decided to bring it along. For remembrance.) Italy, herself, comes running up to me. She was apparently fetching water for Austria. (Why do I feel there is more to it than that? I sense a conspiracy.)

She greeted my a "Hello, good morning~!". And I felt as if my chest was about to explode. I couldn't breathe! I was thinking, "Oh god, why now?!" She always runs when I chase her. But when I leave, she follows. Women are so complicated. Prussia told me they are the most complicated beings ever put on the face of the Earth. And I think I have to agree with him on that _one_ point.

I couldn't do this. Telling her goodbye. It was... I simply... Seeing her now, on the moment of my departure... Was the worst thing that could've happened.

I went through with it anyways.

Of all the things I wanted to say to her. Of all the secrets I wanted to confess. I merely said this,

"I'm sorry for everything."

And I sincerely was. I was sorry for obsessively following her. I was sorry for bullying her. I was sorry all the means things I did to her. Purposely or accidentally. I was sorry for all that.

But I would never regret loving her.

Every single day became a blessing, when I had her by my side.

I could never apologize for that.

And then, I told her I was leaving. She was confused. And I had to repeat myself. Despite the torture of saying it the first time. When my companions urged me to hurry... She was finally convinced.

"So long... Stay well, alright."

That was my farewell. It could never sum up all the feelings I have for her. But it was better than nothing.

What she did next, surprised me. Shock me to my very core.

She gave me her undergarments.

**I kid you not**.

She pleaded and begged for me not to leave. Which of course was impossible. And she finally understood that. So she gave me a parting gift.

**Her panties**.

IT WAS A CONFESSION!!

If I ever saw one. Not that I have mind you. (Though there was this one time with Spain and Austria...)

And I was completely overwhelmed. Floored!

She... Loves me.

Italy loves me.

**_Italy loves me_**.

I was so happy.

So I told her. I _finally_ told her.

"Ever since the 900's, I've always, always loved you."

I meant every word.

Then we kissed. My parting gift to her.

I'd rather not describe to you the details of our little kiss. First of all, because it is impossible to put in words. And secondly... I'm actually a little embarassed by it. (Sh-She wasn't wearing underpants while we kissed!)

But I will say that it was sweet. And warm. And I was in Paradise.

Unfortunately, as Fate would have it... My people still wanted change. (Seizing Italy's vital regions weren't enough) I had to leave.

It's cruel. Especially since I just proclaimed my love to the most important person in my world...

But such are the lives of Nations. Such is Life.

We cope with it.

I told her goodbye. Farewell. I promised to come back once the fight is over.

And she promised to wait. "I'll always wait... We'll see each other again! We will! We really will!"

She promised to welcome me with sweets. Advised me not to get sick, or hurt.

I couldn't help but smile at that.

She cares for me.

She really cares for me!

I was the happiest man alive.

So I promised her. As I walked away.

_"No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world."_

I meant every word.


	19. War

It's only been a week since I left Austria's house, and already I miss her.

Italy, what are you doing right now? Are you well? Are you skipping out on chores as usual? Are you painting in the garden? Are you listening to Austria's music?

... Do you miss me? At all? Even if it's only a little bit.

As of currently, I am at war. Such frivolous thoughts are not welcome here. I should be focusing on attack strategies or practicing my swordplay. But I cannot help thinking about her... In my thoughts, I can still _hear_ her.

_"Good morning, Holy Roman!"_

I will be home soon. I promise. I can't leave her alone for too long.

She's waiting for me.

* * *

I apologize for my late entry, Dear Journal. But it is war. Or should I say, wars.

It's been hard recently. With Austria and Prussia fighting ever so often. I-I feel so weak...

Pain is my constant companion. For my empire exists only in name. And everyday, nations quarrel. I have no reprieve. It _hurts_, quite frankly.

But I won't give up here! I can't!

I can't...

I keep remembering her smile... Her laughter... Those warm days under the sun, where we spent hours doing absolutely nothing. Just being together. I remember her hand, her soft, gentle hand... that fit so perfectly in mine's.

I want to see you, Italy... I want to see you!

* * *

_oh god..._

I'm dying.

**_I'm dying._**

How-Why-I can't-! I can't die here! I won't-I won't allow it!

If I die here, she'll be-!

...

My beloved Italy.

I'm sorry I didn't heed your advice...

_"Don't become the Roman Empire, I like you just the way you are..."_

I'm sorry I didn't listen.

...

I miss you, Italy. I miss you. I keep seeing you face. All your precious expressions.

How you waved me off, so cheerily... Knowing one day...One day I would return

_"I'll wait for you... I'll always wait for you!"_

And I can't **die** here! I can't! I have to be with Italy! I need to be her side! And...

oh god...

I just want to see her... One last time... Just one more...

_please!_

She's waiting for me!

...

I love you Italy. At least know that. I love you, Italy.

I'm sor-

* * *

A crystal tear rolled down his muddy cheek. As the Holy Roman Empire took one shallow breath.

And was no more.


	20. Come Back

Last night, the bed seemed so huge and empty... And even though the window was so wide open, it seemed so dark.

Today-Today, I looked for you. Everywhere. I ran around the entire house, looking for you.

**Where are you? Where are you?** I had asked. I kept calling your name. But you didn't answer. And then I remembered...

**You're not here anymore**...

You're not here to share your food with me. You're not here anymore to read your books to me. You're not here to walk outside and play with. You're not here to comfort me during storms.

**You're not here anymore...**

* * *

I wonder where you are. A lot. Mr. Austria keeps catching me spacing off. Then he yells at me. But I get so impatient.

**When are you coming home?** I keep asking. Looking out the window, just in case you start walking up the road.

And every night, I stay awake. Watching the heavens and knowing that somewhere, you are underneath the same sky.

And every night, I hope to catch a shooting star. Always wishing you come home safe. Always hoping you return tomorrow.

Smiling and thinking about all the fun things we're going to do when you come back.

And I keep waiting.

* * *

Today-Today Miss Hungary taught me how to bake cookies. I tasted some of them myself. They were really yummy.

When you come home, I can't wait to give them to you. Then we can eat together outside, just like we used too...

And today-today, Mr. Austria allowed me a little day off. He even gave me some art supplies.

I ended up making a painting of you.

**Hey, hey. When are you coming home?**

It's been so long. You are coming home right? You promised not to leave me!

**Did you...forget about me...?**

* * *

Last night, I had a strange dream. It was about you. We were sitting in the garden. And you were smiling at me. In that realy funny way that you smile. It's so tiny, just in the corner of your lips. But I think it's really nice. Cause your always so serious.

Your smile makes me feel real warm inside.

**I miss you...**

And everybody's been acting real strange around me. Even older brother. He came to visit me yesterday.

It's really weird.

Oh! But today-today, Brother France is coming to visit me! I-I heard that the war is over! Are you-Are you finally here?!

* * *

_Italy stared at the nation in front of him. All blond hair and blue eyes... just like his. _

_France spoke in low tones, almost a hushed whisper. "The Holy Roman Empire is no more..."_

_A bag of cookies drops. As France's words fade into the background._

_A shrill scream echoing through the silent night._

* * *

**I love you, Holy Roman Empire. Come back home, please?**

**

* * *

**

-

-

-

-

-

A/N: Alright... It's my first ever author note. HI EVERYONE!! I would just like to say, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! For all the support you gave me for this fic! I love you all so much!!! And to The Illustrious Tama who helped me in the historical aspects. Thank you so much!!

Oh. And one more thing. A two-part epilouge I will post... When I cannot say. But don't take this off your alert list quite yet!


	21. Epilogue: He Wanted It Back

_"What are you doing? You can't go out there! That's suicide! Just stay here, god damn!"_

_"I HAVE TO FIGHT!"_

_"You're an-! "_

**"I CAN'T LEAVE HER!"**

_"...What?"_

_"I... I can't... I can't die here... I can't! She's-She's waiting for me! I NEED TO SEE HER AGAIN!"_

_And into the haze of smoke, the chaos of the battlefield, the Holy Roman Empire disappeared. His dark cloak a whisper of a shadow behind him._

_Prussia cursed._

_"Idiot."_

* * *

Germany looked left. He looked right. His clear blue eyes scanning his surroundings.

All clear.

Slinking his way down hallowed hallways and empty corridors, Germany arrived his destination. A quick survey of his surroundings before carefully opening the closet door.

Yes. That's right. His annual house-cleaning.

And by house-cleaning, he meant: HOUSE CLEANING.

Everything. Everything must be washed, dusted, and polished to perfection. Execution day for all the germs and dust bunnies. The Final Battle!

As such Germany armed himself appropriately. A mop in one hand, a bucket of cleaning supplies in another, Germany tied a kerchief around the lower half of his face. His expression armoured with a glare that could peel paint.

It was time.

The house was empty. For today, on this particularly glorious Sunday, Gilbert, dear older brother, had gone out binge drinking with Spain and France. Leaving the house all to himself.

And while Germany positively adored his brother, Gilbert could make himself such a nuisance when he cleaned. Always getting in the way, tripping over things that "I swear was on the other side of the room!"

A headache in a nutshell. Though binge drinking with his friends always resulted in a headache as well, Germany wanted to accomplish something productive today. So he'll deal with the angry bar maid later and focus at the task at hand.

It also helped that Italy was gone today. Every year, on this day particularly. The nation would disappear. It was a strange little quirk but Italy was a strange little country. So Germany learned not to question it.

Flying about the house like an angry humming bird, Germany disinfected every available surface. Even going so far as to raise the mop high into the air to wipe up the ceiling. Every single corner was polished until he could see his own reflection, and the smell of cleanser hung so nauseatingly thick in the air.

Yes, all was going quite well. Perfect, actually.

Until...

At first it didn't bother Germany. He thought it was a trick of the light. Nothing more.

But it kept following him.

A shadow. A dark blur in the corner of his eye. Disappearing the moment he turned to get a good look at it.

The disconcerting feeling of being watched.

He slapped the moist towel hard against the kitchen counter. A hard glare fixed at absolutely nothing.

"Alright! Come out! I know you're there! If that's you brother, quit playing your games!"

Germany waited a moment. But there was nothing. Only absolute silence. He immediately felt like an idiot. Talking to thin air like that! He must look like a loon! What if somebody walked in?

_Creak!_

Germany froze.

What... What was that?

It came from the hallway... Didn't it?

But this house was old. He had lived here for most of his life! And he was a nation! So that was, what? Four, five centuries? Ancient houses did tend to...

_Creak!_

Germany swallowed.

Oh, but his house never made sounds before. Never... Never creaked before.

If Germany really wanted to think about it, and he didn't, it sounded like someone was walking... Walking around the-the-the-

_CREAK!_

Okay! That is it!

Tucking the towel into his bucket, Germany grabbed the mop. Holding it in such a way as one would hold a spear. Just... Just in case.

_"But physical objects don't work on ghosts..."_ His mind traitorously whispered.

Fighting down shiver, Germany trekked down the _empty_ hallway. Yes, beause there's supposed to be _no one _here. Just him. Just him.

Five minutes into it, and Germany realized he had been tiptoeing. He felt like an idiot. A minute later. He felt like a bigger fool as he countered nothing. Not even the curious shadow.

He paused. A dangerous vein ticking in his forehead.

When he noticed Prussia's door was ajar.

Prussia left his door open? That was... That was rare.

But it did remind Germany of something.

He was going to clean Prussia's room!

His brother always protested to allowing Germany clean his bedroom. Saying something about how he could handle it, and "Christ, West! I taught you how to talk! I think I can handle cleaning my own room!"

Needless to say, Germany worried for the state of the bed chamber. Because calling it a room was truly a bit inaccurate. The house _was_ old. Therefore, it had old styles.

Their "bedrooms" were actually a series of interconnected rooms. One holding the bath, one for the actual sleeping, and one for whatever use you deemed necessary.

Germany worried for the state of all those rooms. His brother wasn't exactly the most responsible person(... er, nation?) in the world.

Gently pushing open the door, the blond braced himself. Whatever horrors awaited him, he could handle it!

He was expecting fungi. He was expecting sludge and grime and a mysterious green ooze. He was expecting things that have never seen the light of day, and shouldn't. New species of bacteria that could unleash a deadly plague upon the world.

What he saw was a sparse bedroom. Cobwebs hanging here and there. Dust abound. The sheets unmade, with clothes tossed all over the floor. Papers scattered about, and strangely enough, what looked to be Austria's boxers hanging from the headboard. Germany really didn't want to know.

There was a painting of "Old Fritz" on the bedside table, beside camera labeled "Property of Hungary-If found please return to "Yaoi Club" at-" Germany stopped reading. He had read enough.

Well, it wasn't a _huge_ mess. But he still had his work cut out for him. And so, paying no mind to the more questionnable items in the room, Germany rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

The routine starting once more.

The clothes were put away. The dust bunnies eliminated. Bits of bird poop scraped from the walls. Orginazation and the scent of pine sol permeating the stale air.

Germany rubbed his shoulders. Smiling at a job well done.

A thin ray of light falling across his triumphant expression.

He blinked. Turning to the source of light only to find an open door. A steady stream of sunshine pouring from the tiny crack.

Funny. Wasn't that closed awhile ago.

Germany pursed his lips. No. He would not go there. He still had the bathroom to clean up. And he knew the layout of the house well enough to know that wasn't the bathroom. That was the miscallenous room. The room serving only for the purpose of their choosing. An office perhaps, a den maybe. But Germany knew it was private space. He had no right to intrude.

_...creak..._

The door was opened. Germany slightly alarmed to find his hand gently turning the knob. He barely noticed crossing the length of the room.

But his curiosity was piqued. The thunderous beat of his frantic heart pounding at his ears. His breath shortened.

Something... Something-And he didn't know what-But something! Something was calling him. To this room. To this place. It tugged at his very core. At his very being. An iron grasp that he could not escape.

_He..._

He cautiously entered. Afraid Prussia was lurking in some nondescript corner, just waiting for the oppurtunity to catch him in the act. He had no right to be here after all.

_...wanted..._

After the initial glare of the sunlight faded, Germany's eyes adjusted accordingly. His gaze settling upon the rows upon rows, tall columns that brushed the high ceiling, of books. Countless, age-worn books stacked high. Endlessly. Infinitely.

And Germany knew where he was.

He was in Prussia's Journal Library.

The room where he kept his journals. The many, many he had kept throughout his life. Stories of his youth, accounts of his wars. This room, in essence, held Prussia's memories. Both good and bad.

And Germany knew. He _really_ shouldn't be here.

_...his..._

Nonetheless, his feet carried him. Down the long, eerie aisles painted with shadows. The ominous bookshelves seeming to peer condenscendinly at him. Gazing from high up above.

Germany was truly unnerved. He really was.

But the call... The firm hold that kept his heart captive... it would not loosen. It would not cease. So, Germany walked. On and on. Until he felt he was going to walk forever. Trapped in this godforsaken room.

Then he stopped.

At the furthest corner of the library. In a dark, forgotten recess veiled by the years long past. Germany found himself standing. Staring.

There was nothing special here. The journals were older than the ones near the door, true. But that was to be expected. The journals at the door were more recent.

Everything was coated with a fine layer of grime. And Germany itched for his towel. Only to realize... He had left everything behind. Even his psuedo-weapon, the mop.

He had left everything behind...

A flash of green. A blinding brilliance in a sea of dark browns and blacks.

It caught Germany's eye with an intensity that surprised even him.

Truly, the colors had faded with time. Just as everything else. But it was different. It was a different color. A different shade. A different hue. It was a completely different item all together!

And it caught all of Germany's attention.

It was a painting.

Rather dull in it composition. Featuring only... A maid.

**A beautiful maid with red-auburn hair and the kindest smile he had ever seen**

But Germany couldn't have known that... For the maid in the picture was sleeping. Her body curled in a neat little ball-

**Sleeping ever so soundly that nothing could wake her, not even him...**

Germany winced. A sharp, prodding pain piercing through his skull.

You couldn't tell just by looking at the painting, if the person was a heavy sleeper. The maid could wake at the slightest noise-

**But she wouldn't. He knew. Because she was...**

Youd couldn't even tell if she was a brunette because the color had faded! ...It had faded, right?

Frsutration tainting his mood, Germany gently picked up the canvas. It was centuries old. And apart from knowing Prussia would skin him if he knew Germany had damaged his possessions, Germany had a large respect for art. It came from haning around Italy. He wouldn't dare damage a painting.

**Especially one of-**

He peered in close. Squinting his eyes to get a real good look at the hair.

But his gaze was drawn to the face. That chubby, cherubic face. It looked so_...**familiar**..._

**_"No matter how many hundreds of years go by-!"_**

A distinct pain. Harsh, sharp as it seized his head. Burying beneath his skin. A fiery pain unlike he had ever felt before.

_CREAK!_

He moved to clutch his temples. Grimacing as he let go of the painting.

The canvas landing on the floor with a muffled thump.

Something dark, worn with age and use, falling out.

And everything ceased.

The pain gone as quickly as it appeared.

Something from behind the painting. Something fell.

Germany blinked.

Bending over, Germany took the mysterious item from the dust-carpeted floor. Brushing some dirt from the leather covers.

_...journal_...

It really shouldn't be out of place. Especially in the library he was in. Another journal shouldn't make a difference.

Except this one...

_He wanted his journal back_

**A/N: Part two coming right up!**


	22. Epilogue: Thank You

_"You should've said 'yes' when I asked."_

_Silence._

_"We could've been journal buddies… Y'know?"_

_No answer._

_Prussia looks to the heavens. The clouds heavy with tears yet shed. The crimson glare of his gaze seeking the answer he would not get from the still boy beside him._

_"But now… Now it's too late…"_

_In his hand, worn and callused from hard years of battle, was a book. A leather-bound book fallng apart at the seams. The pages were tattered with edges frayed. Bold, cursive words written in ebony ink…_

_"Cause you died..."_

_A whisper of mist blanketed the bloodied ground, the shroud of death for all who have fallen._

_What was one boy, one broken-hearted boy, in the sea of the dead?_

_"Such a shame."_

* * *

There was nothing even remotely unusual with _it_. It was just a journal. A plain, old journal. Germany could get up, right now, and walk to the nearest store. Chances are, they would have a journal exactly like this one. Really, the only thing special about _this_ one was its age. _It_ was very, very old.

_Since the 900s..._

About 1100 years old if Germany was to guess. And it was only a rough estimate. He couldn't after all be sure if it originated from the 900s. Was paper even invented then?

Well, whatever. The age of the journal was none of his concern. It truly wasn't. He shouldn't even be handling it. Journals fall under the category of private property. As in, what the hell was he doing? Sitting at the dining table with the journal laid out before him?

This journal was not his! It belonged to Prussia! Or if not, maybe to one of his old friends! Spain or France to name a few. For all Germany knew, it could've been from one of Prussia's bosses. Old Fritz, perhaps, and then Germany would be really dead. Brother or not, Prussia was touchy when it came to Old Fritz.

He really needed to return the journal back to where he got it. It was not his!

Or so Germany kept telling himself.

The journal was not his.

_But it belonged with him..._

No! No, no, no! That wasn't right at all!

_But it wasn't wrong either..._

Argh! Germany massaged his temples. His headache, which had not abated since this all started (thank you very much), worsened. This was getting him nowhere! And time was wasting. He still had so many things left to do. He needed to take out the trash, clean the kennel, weed the garden! He had to return the journal before it got too late.

Except...

Except... He was curious. Oh, he was very curious.

... A little peek wouldn't hurt. Just a small one. And then he'd put it right back. He promised. Just one tiny, insignificant peek. After all, what did Italy say...?

_"I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you!"_

Geramny winced. No. That didn't even make sense. He was pretty sure it was 'live a little'. Or was that America? Either way...

The pads of his fingers ghosted over the covers. As if guided by an invisible force, Germany slowly opened the journal.

Live a little.

* * *

**PROPERTY OF HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE**

_**DO NOT READ**_

_(that means you Hungary)_

* * *

Stamped across the entirety of the first page was this solemn statement. Encouraging, really.

But the name... "Holy Roman Empire". That rung a bell. Germany heard Prussia say that name in passing. But only in passing. If he ever prodded, Prussia would just wave him away. It wasn't any of his concern. Besides, "he was just some love-sick fool, West." And that was that.

But it seems it wasn't just that. There was more to his story, the story of a young empire, that Prussia refused to reveal. And here was Germany, holding that forbidden tale in his hands. If anything else, it fed Germany's curiousity.

_Who was the Holy Roman Empire? _

And so, Germany began to read.

Hours passed. The sun quietly setting, as the skies blushed a golden pink. And still Germany read on.

It was... strange. Truly the journal's contents were not so erapturing. Merely tales of a young empire's exploits, his failed attempts to winning the heart of a certain nation.

Truly, it was nothing more than a diary of a boy in love.

But... the words... The passages... Germany was not reading it. He was living it.

_I don't need a journal, so I won't be writing again._

And he felt the reluctant compliance as he wrote for the first time in the journal, believing he would never use it.

_Italy is in my house! ITALY is in my house! Italy is in MY HOUSE!! I just can't say that enough._

And in his mind, he saw a little girl in servant clothing. Sweeping away as joy and euphoria, unlike any he had ever felt before, swept through him.

_I saw Romano smirk smugly behind her. He was gloating, that bastard!_

Frustration and anger. A living room dripping with remnants of luscious tomatoes. His beloved crying. And the sticky paste still fresh in his hands. Romano's face still irked him, even 1100 years later.

_"I...won't. I won't leave you." Not like the Roman Empire, I had meant._

He remembered a little girl, crying all by herself in the back gardens. He remembers her smile as he gave her the flowers. He remembers how truly important her happiness was to him.

_I snuck up next to her and slowly began to sketch her features. Carefully adding color. I just had to get her likeness right._

And he remembers the painting. He remembers painting it. Because maybe, just maybe, he would not come back.

_Italy loves me._

And he remembers their kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet. And how much it hurt...

How everything just...

_hurt..._

_**"No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world."**_

The bitter taste of betrayal. The anger and pain of realizing... He had failed her. He had failed the most important person in his world. He had broken their promise.

Except...

Except... It wasn't his promise. It wasn't his promise to keep.

He wasn't Holy Roman Empire. He was Germany! Deutschland!

He was the younger brother of Prussia. He was a young country.

**He was not the Holy Roman Empire**.

_He couldn't be..._

Blood-covered phrases. Sorrowful words behind a veil of mortal pain.

Holy Roman Empire died.

Germany inhaled the familiar scent of gunpowder and smoke. The marks of war having never left.

He turned to the last page. An empty page. Not a word written.

_It still hurt..._

_"I love her! I can't leave her! She's... She's the most precious person on this earth... to me... I love... her."_

Germany clenched his ears. He wasn't in the kitchen anymore. He was in a battlefield. Soldiers falling left and right, and he in the center of all the chaos. A sword was firmly in his grip, and yet he did not move. He was not fighting.

For all he could see was a certain nation's face. A cheerful smile. Memories of times past. Long ago past.

**"I want to see you! I want to see you, Ita-!"**

"-lia. Italia. Italia." Germany murmured.

It felt broken, even to his ears.

To him, Italia was a pasta-loving boy. An irritable, useless boy that served as a hinderment, and nothing more. He always had to be saved, and he could not be counted on. He took siestas even in the middle of training, and had to be naked while he slept. He always had pasta wherever he went, even in the dry desert. He grated on Germany's nerves. Forever smiling, and cheerful, always greeting him with tiny hugs and kisses. Trusting him so completely and totally, never straying from his side.

He wore his heart on his sleeves. If nothing else, Italy was the vibrant expression of emotion. And he was...

Well, he was a fool, and a coward, and as useless as can be...

But he was... someone very dear. At some point in their tumulous relationship, Italy wormed himself into his heart and nestled comfortably there. And Germany realized he could not and did not want him to leave. He...

Germany stared at the final page. The last page. Still untouched despite all these years.

And he was writing.

He had no idea if that pen had always been there beside him. Or if he had picked it up before sitting down. All he knew was that, it was in his hand now. The pen. And he was writing.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_I am not your beloved Holy Roman Empire. And I never will be._

_So, I know I have absolutely no right to tread upon your pages. I have no right to write my thoughts._

_But... I think, despite being an inanimate object, you deserved to witness the end of this tale._

_Forgive me, since I have not properly introduced myself. My name is Germany. Deutschland._

_First off, I would like to state that ITALY IS A BOY. I have absolutely no idea why for the most part of his childhood he decided to cross-dress, nor do I wish to know. I have my suspicions it has something to do with Hungary, but I am not sure. In eiher case, I assure you, Dear Journal, that Italy is part of the male gender. He has run to my house naked enough times for me to affirm it. Don't ask me why he runs around naked, especially to my house, but I personally think it is an Italian thing._

_Secondly, I would like to address, that though I am not the Holy Roman Empire... I have inherited his body... His memories... Unfortunately, I am a completely different person. I have different experiences, a different family (though perhaps not so much different), and a different personality all together... I am not the Holy Roman Empire. Perhaps I once was... But he died... And I was born._

_But know this, Dearest Journal. Know that one thing still remained. A remnant of your beloved Holy Roman Empire still resides with me. I am... even after all these years... still very much in love with a certain Italian nation. I still... love Italy. With all my heart and soul._

_Take comfort in this, Dearest Journal. Take comfort in the knowledge that Holy Roman Empire's final wish and promise continues to be fulfilled to this very day. _

_I promise to you, that I will take care of Italy to my fullest capability. Italy is in good hands. He need not wait anymore._

Putting the pen down, with a quiet sigh, carding a hand through his hair. Germany felt a huge weight be lifted from his chest. A burden, long ago placed on his shoulders, now relieved. And he was free.

With a goofy-looking grin, Germany stood up. He dashed to the coat rack and hurried out the door. Not even bothering to explain as a drunken Prussia stared confusedly after him. He simply hopped into his Mercedes and revved up the engine. Not stopping to appreciate the purr of the motors as he backed out of the garage.

Despite the time, despite the late hour, Germany had to see Italy. He needed to see Italy. He needed to hold the other in his arms and never let go.

Because he had finally realized. After all these years... The feeling that had resided in his heart since the moment they have first met, in that comical time when Italy jumped out of the tomato box...

He loved Italy...

Of course in true German fashion, he probably wouldn't know how to say it... But he'll deal with that when he absolutely had to. After all, what was that saying again...

Live a little.

* * *

Back home, as Prussia stormed up the stairs in a drunken huff, the journal still lay on the table. Wide open for everyone to read.

And in the watchful gaze of Mother Moon and the stars up above, a chilled evening breeze floated into the kitchen. Carefully turning that weathered page.

And on the back cover, inscribed in that same ebony-ink were two words.

**Thank you**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**A/N: Lame ending is lame. Sorry. But thank you so much for reading this story. I hoped you liked it... Because finally! It is over! I am starting several new stories. De-anoning from the kink meme and stuff, so get ready!**


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